21 February 2018

So. After seven years, Doug left me. He broke my heart and gutted my world. October 2017 I found out he cheated on me, and that November he ran away, leaving me with a shattered life, and more problems and pain than I could bear. The below is just the accumulation of slag and shit from those months. I still can’t conceive its only been about 3 months. You can see my progression through this as you read. It’s not pretty.

This is December.

Dec 01, 2017 7:50am

Up. Waiting for water folks. Waiting for water, so I can have an actual shower in my own house. It’s Friday. Nowadays, Fridays aren’t the day that I celebrate. PAYDAYs are the days I celebrate. Dogs are just sleeping around me and I have a cat who is either wanting love or food, I haven’t determinded what yet. If don’t pet her, she’s now slapping her fat, heavy tail hard around liked some pissed off alligator.

Trying to maintain one of those states where I’ve turned off the brain or at least slowed the clickity clack down. I close my eyes and just concentrate to tune out everything but the comedy running on the computer. Just to let that into the brain and push everything else out. And it works. And then I come to a MAJOR realization. The clickity clack of my brain is at a very HIGH activity level and has been at this uber super-colider level for years now, but… it was because of him. My meta voices were always on alert, monitoring the environment and such – when I was preoccupied with him, when he was this black hole of need and the source of criticism – the to-do list of my life, the head chatter was constant. I couldn’t slow it down. I had to be on top of things. I had to make things right. Better. Faster. Easier. Cleaner. Thinner. Quieter. Tastier. Richer. I was always chasing that perfect thing, to ANTICIPATE a need, or want, that perfect piece, the perfect setting that would make things acceptable.

Of COURSE, I never could get it perfect. I kept trying. Just became part of my daily consciousness. It was always part of my personality of people pleasing. I grew up like this. It was, literally, life or death, to find the ideal combination of things that would keep my mom from hating me, or that would keep my dad from beating her, or that would keep everything quiet. It was to keep the evil at bay. So that I could sleep through the night without violent episodes that terrified me and shook me awake. I underestood hypervilligence. I understood hyperattention to have your brain snap to attention and analyze every sound, every movement. To ANTICIPATE the next episode, or attack, or ambush. Back then, there were times I needed to be ready to jump in between a 6.5” man and a 5” woman. There were many times I had to be ready to take a arrant blow. There were MANY times I had to ignore horrendous and hurtful verbal showers of hate. And no. I’m not exaggerating for effect. This is not a good writer’s hyperbole. It’s the source of a lot of my… quirks.

Today, I realized the mechanisms that turn my brain up like that, I am able to get control of again. I relaxed this morning and was able to quiet the noise. Now. I’ve actually slowed all of it down. Since the water is coming and I know what I’m doing for the next week or two, my brain has nothing to really chatter about. I know what’s going on. I have control of what’s going on. I am able to accomplish successfully the mental to-do list.

Oh how funky this is. It’s like a funky feeling to not have that ramped up activity in my brain. Not to have a king sized tumor of worry pressing on a nerve in my head.

I wonder if it will change my personality?

Dec 01, 2017 5:48pm

Finally home, WATER. Doing a load of laundry and preparing to clean this kitchen. Dogs around me, Craig Fergusen on the other computer. Relaxing for the first time in a long while. Have to work tomorrow, but then after work going to go to the Art openings they have in downtown Augusta this weekend, since its right outside my work. Augusta is a right awesome little burg. There’s live bands I think, and this winter wonderland deal with ice skating and some other weird stuff. And the greatest thing about two or three blocks from my work? Mellow Mushroom Pizza. Greatest eats I’ve had for a while. We went there a week ago. just righteous.

Got home, gave big hugs to the doggies, and felt the weight of the world melt off my shoulders. I don’t want to think anymore. Although, what is AWESOME is that I can do anything I want now. I can go to the dive bar down the street or to an eatery in lexington. I can go shopping (and probably will here at midnight).

This is much different than Forest CIty. In Forest City, I was unemployed, isolated, a little lonely, and probably a little depressed. Probalby my self worth was in the toilet too, and so I was a little vulnerable. My home there wasn’t a home. Although, the hting I liked was downtown was walking distance away from my house, and sometimes, in the summer I would take a walk downtown – its only now I know that was a pretty dangerous thing to do.

I’m still mourning my life I lost and the guy I loved, but I didn’t fall into the rabbit hole. I am alone, but that’s not a bad thing. Unless I go to Walmart and decide to buy a TV. I have no one to tell me no…. damn.

Dec 02, 2017 8:52am

I’m up. Still don’t really sleep through the night, and still don’t turn out the light or the computer comedy, but its been getting more restful. I just seem to wake up three times a night for no reason. Sometimes with that feeling that something is wrong. Then I realize reality.

I woke up this morning in the middle of the entire zoo, stationed in strategic places around me. Except for Orange Kitty. He’s been more inside than outside these days, and today, he was trying to get a spot to laydown where he could bug me for pets. He was ALL up in my face – he was ALL up in everybody’s face for love and attention. I guess it really was Doug that he didn’t like, so, never came in. He’s in more and more now.

Dogs are doing fine I think. I notice a little more frenzy than usual when I come home, and a little more clinginess while I’m home. But, as with anything, we are all going to have to get use to it.

I woke and had a twinge of “GOTTA DO XXXX” but I couldn’t fill in X. It’s almost as if I’m needing a crisis to worry about, or it doesn’t feel normal without something hanging over me. But there is nothing. That is the BIGGEST, and probably HARDEST thing I’ll have to get use to – the lack of spectres circling me and the lack of Damocles’ sword over my head. I can actually make long term plans dealing with money and concrete actions. And the only one that is responsible is me. It’s always harder and more lonely doing it yourself. It’s better to have someone to share your life with. But, its not bad doing it on your own. It’s not unsatisfying or unrewarding. It’s not less of an accomplishment, indeed, it might even be easier to be the only captain of the ship.

I’m very aware that I’m starting to let of a little of the tight control I’ve always tried to have on things. It’s a little less scary to let the tide carry me for a while. I’m still going in the direction I want to go, I guess now, its nice to just let it float for a while, so that I can rest.

Going to work and probably going to have to spend most of the day there. If I get out early enough, there are some openings going on, and the winter wonderland thing, plus Metro Market has an outdoor eating area where you can just sit and people watch. Probably just sit there with my camera and just… exist.

Dec 03, 2017 10:38am

Last night I worked till midnight, and then shopped until 2 a.m. I was exhausted and slept straight through the night until about 10 this morning. The weather monkeys say its going to be 72, and I see the orange of sunshine outside. For some reason, it maybe the 2 years of conditioning from living in Forest City, my body automatically ramps up and everything stands at attention and says YES/UP/HAPPY/DO SOMETHING. So I’m going to let the sunshine in, put on the headphones and do some serious cleaning. I have the need to keep busy.

I still have that shelter newsletter to do, and that will take hours but I’ll wait until dark for that. These days, I don’t know why, but I’ve been avoiding going into my computer room. I don’t know why. I wonder if its because its full of stuff that Doug got me or what? Little things he gave me. Little reminders of the affection he might have had for me. It’s full of all the personal items that bring me comfort and joy I have collected in the past seven years. A lot of things have Doug memories attached. Almost a cave of all the good memories and sentimentality of my life. Everywhere else is/was the reality. The missing crap of Doug’s that I truly loathed. I see the giant mess, figuratively and literally he’s left me. I see all my stuff and Doug’s discards, and Doug’s MESS. I would imagine that the rest of the house reminds me of how I was one of Doug’s discards. The computer room is filled with little things he got me, his picture, and good memories of my life. The rest of the place is more of the truth, and the other room is the fantasy of it all. Maybe that’s why I’m so uncomfortable. I don’t want to change the room, because it is filled will all the things I love (a lot of it not Doug-centric), but I want to get rid of the uncomfortable haunting I feel when I am there. I’m unsure as to how to fix any of that.

I guess I’m in the forlorn stage. The clinical stuff I am rereading over and over again about the discards of narcissist is the stuff that keeps Doug as an… entity to me… it removes any sentimentality that I thought he had for me and our relationship. It helps me distance myself from it all, reminds me of the reality and helps me tell myself it would never have worked without Doug changing fundamentally, and he was too far gone for that to ever happen. But the things I read also makes me really sad for him, for the life he could have had (with me or anybody) without these crippling insecurities and a real lack of empathy for anyone else. His issues are so much bigger than one man can handle, and he doesn’t even realize how great life can be, if he could conquer or manage all that. I know the truth of his past life where he was “so happy” and he was with his “soulmate”. It makes me ache that he will never be truly happy and he will forever be trapped in this cycle of basically chasing the dragon that will always bite him. It makes me sad there wasn’t a way we could have been happy. In ways, he did make me happy and made me feel I wasn’t alone in the world. In many other ways, I was even more lonely, isolated and sad than if I were all by myself. There had been times in the car ride home from work, I thought about that.

Trying to work through all that now.

Well. I’m off to open the windows and let the sunshine in. Let the happy into the house, and into myself. And get this funky funk out.

Dec 03, 2017 5:39pm

This sucks. I miss him. I’m sitting in doing the newsletter, and even if he was here, I’d be in here doing this same thing. I don’t understand why I missing him now. Usually, I’d be sitting in here, not thinking of him in the other room, doing this newsletter. I’m sitting in here, now doing the newsletter, and suddenly, I’m thinking of him, and thinking how much I miss him. I’ll never understand all this shit.

Dec 03, 2017 7:59pm

The days are more tiring than they’ve been a long time, which, isn’t necessarily bad. I finally got the kitchen SO clean. It was a beautiful day, and it wasn’t bad…. for a while. I get the loss grabbing me unexpected me at the oddest times. When I don’t even think about it.

No matter the logics and circumstances, the reasons and facts, the loss/emotion is still there. You can’t just erase someone that much a part of your life overnight. Well. I can’t. I envy his ability to delete me. I envy his ability not to care.

It’s a testiment to what sort of person I am I think, that I still have the strength of that love, that caring there. It’s also a testiment that, I can keep that, and not be afraid of keeping that, but I can go on. Sometimes, its one day at a time. Sometimes, its one hour at at a time. Sometimes it feels like I’m finally done.

I’m too stubborn not to go on. I’m too obstinate not to try. I’m too hard headed to stay down. I don’t know where I’ll find the strength, but I somehow always do. I have so many people behind me, so many people checking on me, so many trying to help, so many that let me just be me in whichever state I’m in. Maybe that says something about me, and about what sort of person I am.

I loved the sunshine today. The fresh air filled the house. The music filled the house. Joyous goofy dogs are all over the place, adding love and normalcy to my life. I found out that the only beer I like is Bass Ale, and if I buy something else, I can’t choke it down, even if its a decent drink.

Got therapy. Got lawyer’s. Got work. Got little worries. Got big ones. Got dogs. Got cool sunglasses. Got a little money. Got warm blankets. Got internet. Got friends. Got decent credit. Got a good path. Got a good heart. Got good sneakers. There’s not a lot in the world that I don’t have.

Which is nice.

Dec 04, 2017 10:04pm

I have had two beers, nothing to eat and just defended the right of photoshop trolls (of which I am one) to put a unibrow on someone’s selfie. I have four dogs sleeping around me, of which one is either snoring or has some sort of respiratory problem, the other has bad gas. I got one cat who, for a really sick cat is fat, happy and currently letting me itch her tummy.

I’m am so tired of it all. The victimhood… of EVERYBODY… the butthurt insecure man up north who’s life is going to be crappier without me. My own victimhood, that use to think all the pain was equal to my loss. Jesus. I have SO much going for me. I have SO much to offer. I have given so much to everybody, and will continue to do so. I have talent, and humor, and beauty and intelligence. I have warm blankets, 10 beers, and a clean kitchen.

I have a major fuck ton than many people, and I appreciate so much more than a lot of you turd nuggets who sit in your little blessed lives wondering why your ego and emotional well being can’t be coddle and gee, who’s life can I ruin because I am twat-sore that I am not special.

Jesus. You’re unhappy? Well. Cock-a-doodle-doo. Most of life is a battle between living and dying, with sprinklings of happy here and there. When you find an ounce of something precious as unconditional love or free beer, FUCK, who are you to spit in the face of the universe for giving you this gift. I almost forgot how fucking lucky I am/was/will be as I was wallowing in my self-misery, wondering why some pretend problem I have was worth more attention and concentration than the real things in my life. REAL things. Like water. Like living. Like sunshine. I’m angry. I’m ready to be less angry. Less sad. Less mournful. Less everything.

Just tired of being tired. Let’s get on with it already.

Dec 05, 2017 6:21pm

Tired and home. My stamina is building up for the day. I get overwhelmed only occassionally. And I’m trying to master “fuck it”. At some point, I’ll do this divorce thing and all that is necessary for all that. Shit, if he cared at all about the divorce or me or anything, I think I’d hear SOMETHING from him. I’ll do it in my own good time, when I can afford it. I can do enough to get him off the insurance, and the rest will come.

I have exactly 3 pairs of pants that fit now. All the others just fall now, or look like big baggy jammie pants. The shirts and all are hanging more like tents. I have to eat. I tell myself I need to eat and sometimes I’ll even buy something, but I can only get a few mouthfuls down, and gag on the rest.

Needing some sort of haircut – either by me or some outside source. its really long and lion-maney. Not sure if I like it but its long enough to do something with.

And I’m getting mean. No. Strike that. Not mean. I feel myself getting harder. Less kind hearted. Less accepting. Less something. I feel it. I am more accepting of thoughts that fly through my mind of a more harsh nature. I’m not sure if this is good or bad. It’s like a hunk of the gentle, loving girl solidified into rock. And now, I carry this rock around. It’s always there. I feel the stone inside me – I never NOT feel it. I guess, feel thankful if you’re somebody already inside my circle because the outer shell hardened even more, and I am less apt to… how do I say this.. be open to new people. I’m less apt to give anyone the benefit of the doubt that has never had it from me. I don’t know if I like this or not. It feels like I’ve grown a layer of protective armour now – its hardening and will soon be set.

And that’s a shame. But. Doug, in the last seven year, has added a element (more than just an element) of suspiciousness to my core. Because of all the lying, little lies and big – the ones he told to me, the ones I saw him tell to other people – and the ease with which he did it, always made me suspect of things said and done by everyone. He always thought the worst of people’s motives and actions. I’m wondering if its like the cheater who suspects everyone of cheating? From cars to movie tickets, he, for better or worse, tried to get as much as he could from the situation. He was proud when he gained the advantage – and that’s not necessarily bad, when tempered with… integrity. He didn’t shirk from an opportunity, and that’s admirable in some ways.

I bounce back from the good and bad these days, because now I see it all clearly. I’m not sure if I’m just trying to process all the events of our life in a reality machine, eventually to print out a report of the whole and heart of the seven years. I’m not sure if its a pro/con list. I’m leaning toward it being an evaluation of what I can take away from it all. I want to give Doug credit where he is due, but I don’t want to whitewash anything anymore.

Some say I’m obsessing. I don’t agree (and BTW, the therapist doesn’t either). It’s a process for me. I need to uncover the truth and see as much of the landscape as possible. I have this NEED to understand, although, nowadays understanding Doug and his reasons for anything are not required anymore. I’m trying to grow from this pain. I’m hoping Doug’s trying to do the same, but the nagging doubt is that he has reverted back to being that man I met seven years ago. All the things I saw him becoming have been deleted, and he went back to the world in which he was comfortable.

I am HIGHLY uncomfortable these days. And well, maybe that’s not a bad thing at all.

Dec 06, 2017 6:47am

dear lord. its early and I’m tired and at work. you might ask why I“m so tired. I got up early. you might asked why I got up so early. got some drunken texts at 1:09 am and more at 4:02 am….


Oh mighty christ, I’m SO tired.

Dec 06, 2017 7:22am

I thought divorce would be easy. Actually, I didn’t really thing divorce would be an issue in my life. And even then, I had no idea, even an amicable one would be this much shit. EVEN when two people had agreed to split.

I thought about things and I think I’m placing too much value on “MUST.DO.THIS” and maybe his resistance is just a little thing that doesn’t even matter. I keep going through just hellish shit, and maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just obstacles that are magnified by my grief and hurt to magnitudes beyond what they really are.

And maybe I hurt so bad and think he doesn’t care, when he doesn’t know and its all out of sight/out of mind. And maybe he DOESN’T care.

I decided that I need to learn to chill. There is nothing pressing that is making me decide something right this second. I have choices. I can screw him to the wall or not. I am probably making mountains because that’s what I choose to see them as. He isn’t the monster I saw a little bit ago. Reading the NPD shit and stuff comforts me for a bit, but I must not mistake that as truth. It is… a filter. Just like the victimhood that exists in support groups and such. He isn’t a monster. He’s a messed up man. I really don’t know anything that goes on in his head. I just need to slow down and process all this right. I’m in such a hurry to rid myself of all of this and I don’t think I should yet. I should THINK more than FEEL at this point. I did all the tsunami of FEELING. I thoroughly, I think exhausted all that. Now. It’s brain time. I need to do the smart things. the things that take distance and perspective.

So. Financially, if I can do things that I think need to be done or that I want to happen, I will. Unlike all the advice I get that is meant for a different sort of woman, I identify with Doug because I am more like Doug than I like to admit. I score HIGH on healthy narcissism and HIGH on scales that identify potential abusers. I skate that line between high scoring and over the line.

So. I am definitely not Doug’s victim in the truest sense of the word. I am wallowing and washing myself with the oils of victims, and to some extent, yes. I was victimized. But, I do not react as one, and I do not remain one. I will not be one. So I need to stop painting Doug as a monster because he is not, and I’m not a dupe. There was a whole car ride to the lawyer, I had toyed with the idea of liquidating my 401k, handing it to the lady, and saying “hurt him.” But. I think. Therefore. I am NOT Doug. I was blessed with a decent level of maturity and empathy. I am not a wounded child going through the world needing to satisfy an insatiable ID with the souls of others. The first thing for ME to heal, is not having the wound anymore. I heal because I will it to. And then we will see what needs to be done.

And well. I can say this because its been two months and I slogged through a bunch of crap.

Dec 06, 2017 6:13pm

Oh today started out crappier than hell, but it ended up outstanding.

It started out Dougified and ended up Dustified. I was feeling pretty tired and crappy, since I was awoken by a drunk dingus texting me at 4 in the morning. He was scared about lawyers and such – as well he probably should be, since I am mercurial and am bound to do just about anything. I woke not to texts concerned about my own well being, but as usual, what if anything is effecting Doug. AND, I woke up to a warm morning and CLEAR WATER.

My new well had been gving milk, and well, we let it run, and now its clear water coming out of every tap. I’m happy. Well, as happy as pissed off and tired could be. I went to work and just simmered, all sorts of thoughts going through my mind, bringing me down.

But, this only lasted a little while, to my surprise. I read a little NPD shit, and I told Doug stories. The stories that I’m not suppose to tell becasue they are embararrassing. Turns out, they are funnier than hell. For some reason, it put me in a wonderful mood, and put some distance between me and that whole situation. I am starting to bounce back faster and higher everytime now I get down. I’m regaining a good level of happy, and staying there. The rubberband that shoots me back to ground zero of happy is stronger and more springy.

So I did an experiement. I thought of all the things that would put me in the dour, mourning, soulsick mode. I couldn’t get myself into that cave. IT was amazing. Now, I’ll probably pop back into there more than occassionally here in the future, but it just seems everyday gets better. i get stronger. I get harder. I get Dustier. And for better or worse, I’m getting skinnier. There were doughnuts and I didn’t have one. But I did have half an egg mcmuffin this morning, and now I’m having a beer. I am in an extradinary mood.

December 9th is the 10th anniversary of Ken’s death. This is the year I might do something about that whole deal. I still have his ashes. They mean nothing now – he is not the ashes. The ashes are something left from a reality that no longer applies. He had probably left thoae ashes a long time ago, and if ever I wanted him back, I can just call him back because he lives within me. So I think, since this is a season of monumental change for me, the shedding of sadness, the closing of a life, the loss of love, I think maybe its time for an overdue goodbye. If you know me at all, I never really let go, so everybody and everything I have ever known, I carry with me.

So I think I can let the ashes go.

Dec 07, 2017 10:37am

Turns out. Everything about Doug. Everything thing he said. Every standard he set for me. Everything he said about his past. Everyting he said about people. Everything he said about himself. Everything he believed in. Everything. It was all just fantasy. It was some fiction. It was a lie. I am set free. I was chained by all these doubts and fears. I let him rob me of so much. And it all was some lie. Some massive construct that exists only in his head.

I am set free. I’m about to cry I’m so happy.

I am free. I think I am close to being truly free. I’ve asked about everything I can think of, and I’ve gotten the truth about it all. It was all pretend.

I’m just pissed that I wasted 7 years. I gained a bit from it, but, I think. Not enough to justify it all.

I’m just thankful, I am set free.

Dec 07, 2017 6:30pm

Home, dogs, beer and the BIG LEBOWSKI. I had such a good day. The truth does set you free… from most things. And it makes other things easier to get through

Home. It is STILL home. That was what I was afraid of, the home wouldn’t be bearable. It is. It is more than bearable. It’s comforting.

I’m almost 100% at work. My focus is back and I can get through the day. I feel loved. I am loved. I am reminded I’m loved everyday.

Home. Cleaning it this weekend. Treadmilling, cleaning and rejiggering. There’s so much here that is superfluous. I can rearrange, put away, discard, etc. I still have my burn-the-fuck pile with the whore towels and comics. Need to do that soon. But I took all of Doug’s clothes out. I’ve washed, folded and packed them away in one of the suitcases he left behind. The true animosity doesn’t lie with him anymore. I still do have a big hate for Brenda Hare, the whore, so that stuff will be burned and maybe I’ll look up a curse that I can try so her tits will dry up and fall off as the towels smolder. Yeah, yeah, she said it was Doug’s fault. Well. Indeed. Does it look like I give a rat’s ass? Burn in hell you raggedy trash hound.

As you see, I still have some major rage issues. And for some reason, not a lot directed at him. Go figure. I’ve had too good of a day.

I had to buy shit today. Toothbrushes, underwear, socks, and essentials. I spend a whole 76 dollars. I. had to buy the undies. Nothing fits anymore. Saggy underpants are not an option. I’m not sure what to do with some of my clothes that are now unwearable. They are too long to wear and not look weird, and it just a little too short to belt and wear as a dress.

Dogs are just sitting here wagging tails. They are now not so close to me – so I think they are getting more comfortable – a couple sleep on the floor, they rotate around. And, since noone is running the fan all night, I am not getting the sinus infections anymore. The kitchen has stayed spotless. I’m considering sort of thinking maybe kinda getting a TV. I don’t know, I don’t have cable, but it would be nice to have something bigger than a 12 inch macbook to swatch things on. It doesn’t REALLY bother me THAT much… I guess. My mind is fighting it because I don’t really NEED it. I have a problem since I moved to the south in buying something that I want but want in a casual way. IF I can find a reason not to WANT it and I can find a reason why I don’t NEED it, it ends up not being bought.

That’s one thing that drove me nuts – the buying and selling of all the cars we had for no other reason than just to do it. There was no profit made, there was no advantage gained. I guess it was a hobby. Not mine. My hobby involves happy meal toys and flea market R2-D2s.

I’m beginning to groove with life again. The good periods are lasting longer, the bad periods are softer and less severe. As I said. The truth will set you free.

Dec 08, 2017 6:06am

It’s TOO cold. I woke up with cat butt in my face. And I love my new underpants. There’s nothing like new underpants that fit to make your life wonderful. Really, really cold though. It was a pretty good night, except, I had drunk Doug threaten me over text about making the divorce ugly. I had decided to be chill about this for a while because I didn’t know what I should do. Now. I have to go meet with the lawyer again. Christ almighty. I don’t know he wants from me, but he’s not going to get it. I have a bunch of money, time and job. He wants to make this ugly, I can go there. He wants to challenge me, he will lose. His girlfriend and her world will be tainted by this. What’s hilarious is that he thinks anything I may or my not do is movitated by money. Money means nothing to me.

Surprisingly, this doesn’t put me in a sour mood. I know what would happen in court, I have resources so, all this isn’t going to turn me homeless or destitute, and I have underwear that fit. I’m good this morning.

Dec 08, 2017 8:31am

He isn’t even in my life, and he STILL manages to shit all over my good days. This message is to Dougie. He stalks my facebook even though I have him blocked, and I tire of his drunken text sessions with me. I’ve blocked him on my phone. So here goes.

I do not like being lied to and threatened. You hired a lawyer and want to make this ugly? Fine. It’s on like donkey kong, motherfucker. I was going to chill with all of this and see what I wanted to do, but you want to get onto my phone and run your mouth? Fine. You’ve now triggered my flight/fight mechanism and since I don’t have a flight one, we have one choice left. You think this is about money or me wanting money? Money means absolutely nothing to me.

Let’s make your lies the truth here:

You did this, all this, the lying, the cheating, the leaving, for YOU. Not for us. Not some noble deed done by a good guy. You lied. You cheated. You ran.

You did not “set me free.” You destroyed my life and my well being.

You did not love me. I doubt now that you had any real feelings for me at all. Biding your time, using me. That’s what you did. I don’t ever want to hear you say you loved me. Ever.

All this. ALL OF IT. Was your doing. You caused this. This is the bed you made. These are the decisions you made.

I have no stomach for manipulation, but I have the will and courage for the fight you want to bring on. You want to fight me? You’ll lose. You want to make it ugly for me? Try it. I have texts, I have RECORDINGS, I have screenshots of the hotel you stayed at. You left it up on the computer when you left for your gig. Have no doubt at all. You and your girl want to mess with me. You and her WILL lose, and it will be a public mess.

I do not want to have any more drunk ass text sessions with you lying to me, pulling shit out of your ass because your scared. You’ve shit on the LAST good day that I’m going to let you. You want to know what I’m doing or thinking – read it on FB, like everybody else. You want to do anything else, I’m more than ready for it. You discuss this with your dysfunctional entourage and figure out what you want to do.

Dec 08, 2017 6:27pm

Home again, banana, beer and dogs.`

Man, South Carolina, your roads are shitty. Drainage is non-existant and I may have hit a small animal on the way home. It was dark and it was a fairly sizeable thump on the side of the car. I’ve decided I am becoming someone I don’t want to be – because I’ve let toxicity into my sphere. It reopens the wound over and over again, and reminds me of my mistakes without end. So, I’ve blocked the sources and going to try and get back on my path. I don’t need to have an opportunity to let my reptile brain drive, and my hurt and pain is still too sensitive. I’m too easily provoked and too easily reactive.

I won’t be able be to see catalysts of my pain and be reminded of my own stupidity in falling for false gods and pretend pathways. I want to remember love and the past in a good light, even if its a fantasy. I want to get forward momentum again.

So. No more of a lot of things.

I’m about to excise them from my timeline, and from my thoughts. Then, put on a couple of movies, snuggle with my doggos and be happy and warm.

Dec 10, 2017 8:44pm

Welp. I had a good weekend. Surprisingly good, even though it was yucky Saturday. And Sunday was awesome, too. I got to do a bunch of stuff I haven’t done in many, many moons. Plus, I even got 5 miles in on the treadmill – and I didn’t push myself like I usually do, but I was able to up my speed and I didn’t tire out like I usually do. And the most surprising thing is that my yoga pants/runner shorts (the tight spandexy stuff) were baggy. When your tight spandexy pants are now baggy, something’s been happening.

Doug use to say “What are you, 300 lbs now?” or make just incredulously mean guesses at my weight (one of my sensitive issues – when I was young my mom said I was too skinny and never get a man to want me – and the last 7 years, I was too fat) so I have particular pride in losing the 25 lbs since October 15, though I did it in the most unhealthy way possible. Now, I’m trying to transition that energy and momentum into a more healthy way of getting into shape. Most all the food in the house is gone now, and when I went to buy more, I got those little marketplace salads, bananas, and Fuji apples (my favorite). I need to figure out how to get more protein into my diet. There are chicken breast left in the freezer and maybe I’ll try to do something with that, though I’m advanced-level lazy and hate to cook. I guess i could make wraps and freeze them? I’ll figure something out, or just blow it off.

If you look in my fridge, you’ll notice a whole lotta nothing. I could have filled it, but I can’t think of anything I wanted. I haven’t regained my appetite. I still get convulsive heaves, they are daily but now, I don’t know when they’ll come on. They use to happen in the morning for about a minute and a half and then I was good to go. I don’t really know what causes them – I was thinking stress and anxiety, but stress and anxiety waves are coming less frequently and with less severity. I’ve cut down on my drinking somewhat. Still doing about 2-3 beers a day or every other day – that is easy to choke down and I rationalize it as its SOME sort of caloric intake.

For some reason, I’m taking comfort into watching stand up comedy, specifically the ones that are personal, revealing, therapeutic type – Patton Oswalt talking of his wife’s death, Christopher Titus and his autobiographical shows on a very dysfunctional life, Marc Maron’s personal storytelling – it comforts me. They are people who have pain to relate, but its in a very aggressive and non-victimized way – pain through comedy. That appeals to me. It makes me feel that mine is not the only pain, nor is it the worst. It makes mine feel smaller.

I read through a lot of psychology today, and some of these online groups. I shy away from the ones that seem to enshrine pain. The more positive things I gravitate too, the ones that feature strength and understanding. I draw from that. I think as I heal and get better, I am starting to reach out less to people. It’s nothing personal, and I hope no one takes it the wrong way. It takes a lot for me to reach for help, to show vulnerability and its natural for me try to become autonomous as soon as humanly possible. That’s a thing I had in common with Doug – I see vulnerability as weakness. I understand intellectually it is not, and I try to deal with it as well as I can, in the most healthy way I can, but I WILL try to NOT be that as soon as possible. You can’t change a lifetime’s way of coping, especially if its been working for you. Understanding, is less important to me these days. Those beginning weeks of this shit, I was desperate to understand. Now that I do understand what might have happened, or what might be going on, or who Doug really might be, the need to understand is less. That desperation is dissolving into a need to understand how to move forward.

I think I’m doing a fairly good and quick job of it. I hope I am gaining and growing from this, and I hope I can recognize this sort of situation should it ever approach me again, so that I will be able to make the right choice, the good choice.

I think if I would have dealt with Ken’s death properly, and the subsequent life I had in NC (the isolation, the loss of self worth, the low level crisis mode I lived in, etc.), maybe I would have dealt with Doug differently when I met him. Or maybe not. Maybe this is the way it should have happened. I failed in my mission to help him back to good. And I lost a lot me in that mission. But, I got a lot of it back, and every experience with Doug wasn’t a bad one. I have a lot of good memories, and he helped me many ways. So I haven’t decided to regret it. I just regret the end he chose for us. He destroyed me when he became scared and ran, but from that I found a little truth and I set myself free.

Dec 12, 2017 5:58pm

Hommmmmeeeee. Doggggoooossss. Beeeerrrr. I’m establishing a nice routine. Soon to be peppered with other stuff. I guess. Life chugs along, I guess. It’s just a lotta “I guess” now.

Not much to say today, except, there’s sunshine. And a funny smell in the car. So, I’m going to the car cleany-uppy place so they can shampoo and deodorize that weird mold/mildew smell that just started in it. I’m not sure I did it or not or maybe it was always there and when I got rid of that pine tree freshener, the smell was set free. But. $60. and They’ll clean it up. It’s actually not dirty since I haven’t let the dogs in it much. It’s just the routine now, instead of jumping in the car so I can open the gate, I have to lock them in the house now. I guess if I still had the old car, I’d put it by the gate and use that as a dog trap until I can get the gate open.

Doing all right. Well. More than all right. Good mindset, strong will, and motivation for the forward direction. Don’t know what’s going to happen, and THAT’S ALL RIGHT. Aren’t you proud? I am getting to be all right with just “letting it be.”

I think I may trade the big tree for a little tree. The big tree was OUR tree and since that’s all gone, I need MY tree. I’m not in a big hurry to Christmas it all up in here. I never was a big Christmas person, but I liked it when I had someone to share it with – then it was special to me. Then, I tried to make it special.

Someone asked me “Now what are you going to do?”

WHAT THE BLUE FUCK? Jesus christ… Well. I’m just gonna “be” for a while and see where that takes me.

Dec 12, 2017 8:03pm

Something I remembered Doug saying a lot “It’s not like we are a real couple.” “It’s not like we have a real marriage.”

We lived together for 7 years. Worked for each other, did things for each other, shopped, slept, ate, watched TV, did chores, helped each other, hung around each other, talked to each other, went to the movies, defended each other from the world, sacrificed for each other, argued with each other, etc.

Yeah. But we weren’t real. Because we didn’t have the “spark” or the “passion”…

So why the fuck did you stay?

Dec 12, 2017 11:49am

This SO deserves its own post.

From Cracked.com:


I’d like to think that about a week after the first marriage ever was the first time someone said “It’s not what it looks like!” as they frantically tried to cover multiple glistening loins from the withering stare of their new spouse. Since that time, the question of why people cheat has plagued our species. For those who demand monogamy, this pervasive tendency toward everything-with-an-orifice-ogamy is a real headscratcher.

There aren’t a whole lot of upsides to having an affair. Sure, you get to experience a fun new slot, nozzle, squirt whistle, crap flap, chowder chute, or salty churro, but you have to do it on the sly, constantly looking over your shoulder. And when the gig is up, at best you ruin a relationship, and at worst all your shit gets lit on fire on the lawn. Or someone cuts a dick off. That happens. More often than you’d think.

Knowing all the downsides to cheating, a logical person might assume the smart thing to do is break up with your significant other and then freely sprinkle your sex musk wherever you please. But that rarely happens. Some research indicates that one half of a couple will have an affair in 60 percent of all couples. That’s a pretty significant number for a potentially life-changing act that you willingly commit. Imagine if 60 percent of people in a relationship opted to shit in the Thanksgiving turkey at the in-laws. Not on. In.

Psychologically speaking, the reason someone goes all stupid and has an affair is that they’re just really selfish and up their own ass. That’s not psychology lingo poetry, but it can be broken down that way. An affair means personal validation. It’s what the person having an affair wants to make them feel good about themselves. The other person is almost inconsequential. They tell the cheater they’re special, they’re sexy, they’re smart. And that shit feels good.

Some cheaters will manage to sustain a relationship, and even fall in love with the person they have an affair with, but the saying “Once a cheater, always a cheater” isn’t just based on hurt feelings and a little smoke up the ass. Because even in that new relationship, over time, they’re going to want new validation and new exciting feelings, and they’ll stray once again. At its core, this behavior is the same kind of stunted shit you see with a spoiled child who gets a new toy and immediately wants the toy the kid next door has instead. Or in more internet terms, when you buy something for the cat and it sits in the box instead. Fucker.”

Dec 13, 2017 5:37am

wow. its early. up and its cold.

taking a moment to adjust to being awake, and staring at the closet, searching for winter clothing. i have none. so. well, its a challenge.

And I’m going to allow myself this rant. So, you might want to stop reading if your sick of my shit. I know that half of me is sick of my shit, too.

I look at the date and weather. It’s too cold and its about two months since he destroyed my life. Wondering why I was so lucky to be the one who got stomped on. But. For the first time, there is no feeling attached to any of that, except for anger and embarassment. He successfully killed any love or good feelings I had. I’m at the point where I believe he had NO feelings for me. I was furniture or an appliance. You know, he could have just sat, talked to me about everything and left. I guess it was better for him to lie, cheat and leave. I like how Cracked.com put it. cheaters are “selfish and their heads are up their own asses. I only think about this since I have to go to the lawyer. Hate lawyers. About as much as I hate doctors and hospitals. You only see these people when somethings gone horribly wrong.

I’m really starting to come to a point I never wanted to. I really am starting to regret ever MEETING this man. I’m remembering the little bad things, and the big bad things, and I’m flabbergasted that I let it all pass, that i accepted all of it, and forgave so much. All the professionals and all the websites say, don’t beat yourself up, don’t judge yourself. It’s like boiling a frog. It’s the heat being incrementally turned up until the boil is normal. I’m remembering so much now. I want to go screaming. I’m actually trying to remember the good stuff, and the good stuff is not even CLOSE to making up for the big bad things and the everyday things that I grew numb to. WTF. I keep banging my head on the table thinking WTF. He will sit there, either butthurt or in denial. If he wants, we can sit and I can list everything, good and bad, and we can see where he ends up on the decency spectrum. Up to the very end, he just ripped it all apart, he ripped my life apart, he ripped me apart. With not a feeling or concern in the world.

I like that I’m at the point where its not “one day at a time” anymore. It took a lot of doing on my part, but I’m not struggling just to reach 5 p.m. I do things, I plan things. The things apparently i didn’t do when he was here, I do now. But then again, I wasn’t the one who didn’t do anything. I get the messages now “I was such a horrible person” yet I hear the sarcasm he is saying it with as he types it. I see him setting himself up as noble, “I did this for us”, but its just excuses and bits of crap he’s pulled out of his ass. It all comes down to his concern for himself. And whether I’m bad mouthing him on FB. As if there is anyone on here that cares or even reads my rants anymore.

These are just a barameter of my moods, a catalog of my pervasive thoughts for the moment, and a little bit of my voice wanting to be heard. I still have that beaten down little girl saying “It’s not my fault…” who wants to say it over and over again. She’s right. It’s not my fault. Doesn’t make any hurt any less or heal any faster, or life go by any slower so you can get a chance to catch up. Nothing waits for you sort yourself out, so that you can rejoin the merry-go-round. Still keeps going. And after a while, you start to go with it. You find yourself up at an ungodly hour, writing to stall getting up and getting dressed to join the world again.

One thing I’m going to do, come 2018. I’m going to schedule a real vacation. One with a bunch of days off in a row. One where I don’t have to do anything. I was always afraid of having a bunch of time where I did nothing. We are gonna see what’s that like. For once, its gonna be my ass laying in the bed, becoming one with the mattress. Okay. I’ve stalled enough. Some of us have to work.

Dec 14, 2017 12:28pm

Going to be 62 DEGREES today. I’m pleased. Most all of my anxiety is gone, and the bouts that I have now are mild and pass quickly. I have my good days and I have my bad ones. Far fewer bad ones now. Trying to figure out what I want to do about this thing, this elephant, this boulder in my path. This DIVORCE. It’s not that I don’t think it’s a good idea – it’s the right idea. When one partner is beyond even caring about changing or getting better (alcholism, NPD traits), its a situation you can’t be in. I’ve had a couple suggestions, from trying to do a DIY type situation to ignoring it and forcing him to file and pay for it. A couple people want me to screw him to the wall, which contrary to popular opinion, there is a way to screw him badly even with him being broke and having no kids to care about. I have to admit, all of those options have appeal. I’m trying to figure out which one is best for me, not only now, but in the future – for both my physical AND psychological well being. Seeing a lawyer today, and will probably have a laundry list of questions.

I’m learning how to jolt myself out of obsessive behavior/need to know. And its getting easier for me now. The only thing that would make it better is warm weather, sunshine, and 2018. Because really, 2017 sucked bad.

Had a cookie today, had some breakfast, so that’s a step in the right direction. I wish I could get home from work in a reasonable amount of time, then I’d have some sunshine to treadmill in. As it is now, its cold and dark and that doesn’t encourage me to do anything but cocoon. I’d be doing that anyway, married or single, happy or sad.

This weekend, I have, actually a filled dance card. Things to do, people to see, that sort of thing. It’s looking up, I guess. I’m tempted to buy new clothes but I have to resist – my weight hasn’t plateaued yet, and I do have some skinny clothes in the closet that I can get into when I get down to it.

This has got to be the third hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through in life…. in recent life… within the last… 10 years.

Let’s all hope for warm weather. And articles of impeachment for 2018.

Dec 15, 2017 12:57pm

I just don’t understand the world these days. Why do the horrible people in the world get rewarded and the good people get stomped on?

I went to see the lawyer yesterday. I wasn’t feeling really well, but I was in a hopeful mood. I was going to find out what my divorce options were. I was determined to do the right thing, do the thing that helps me move forward, the thing that helps me leave all this shit behind me, the thing that makes me a better person. I was going to do the easiest, cheapest thing, and not get the vengence my wounded heart cries out for. Whatever that might be.

Turns out, society and South Carolina said “Fuck you Dusty”. Turns out Doug isn’t done shitting on me. And South Carolina is going to help him pile it on me.

Option #1. Do nothing. Cost me nothing but I stay married to this life force vampire. Any assets I may gain during the marriage are subject to division in a future divorce, although I’m still able to countersue for adultery, habitual drinking, and whatever else I can. Any relationships, assets and accounts (retirement, savings, etc.) are targets should a future divorce or entanglement happen with Doug.

Option #2 No-fault, non-contested divorce. This is your DIY version. We stay married but separated for a year. There is no legal separation option or protection in South Carolina. We are legally married. I cannot leave this black hole of an individual. Any assets I gain are subject to division, so my lawyer advised not to buy anything – houses, cars, etc. I cannot have any relationships in this time period. I am prevented from doing just about everything that would help me move forward. For a year. I cannot take him off my insurance, even though my company says I can. I cannot FILE for divorce until 2018. I am trapped in this prison. For a fucking year. And when I DO file, I still have to have him served. I still have to FIND the motherfucker. And have him served. This waste of a human being has trapped me in this prison for a year.

Option #3 Fault based divorce. I can get a divorce in about three months. It will cost $1800 and there’s very little chance that I would get my money back should he not have assets or a job. In this option, even though I have proof of infidelity, we would have to supeona his whore for her to testify in court. And I STILL have to serve the douchenozzle. I would probably have to hire a Private investigator to find his ass to serve him. The upside is the vengence and the final resolution of this shit in a timely matter. The downside is the cost. This would drill his ass into the ground and drag his whore through court. This is the most appealing option to me.

Option #4 is moving to Georgia because once I am a resident, I can file and get a divorce in 30 days. Residency establishment takes 6 months though. She couldn’t tell me a whole lot more about it since she wasn’t licensed in Georgia.

So I’m screwed. For seven years, I took care of this man, took his abuse, took all the backhanded insults to my intelligence, degrading comments about my weight or my looks, listened to drunken conversations about how I wasn’t really a girlfriend/wife/female, comforted him when he was sad, validated him when he was down, supported him, made excuses for him when he was horrible to people, stood by watching him insult others, helped him when he faltered, found him jobs, drove him home when he was drunk, forgave him when he dragged me through emotional hell, was his best friend when he had no other friends, cooked for him, cleaned for him, cared for him when he was sick, took the drunken rants of how I was a horrible person, put up with the constant lying from the little ones to the big ones, the money troubles, the infidelity… I did all this so he could lie, screw, drink and destroy my life. Leave me covered in shit. Leave me damaged. Leave me broken. And he thinks he did this all for me. For US, he says. Because he is noble. Because he’s a good guy.

By the time I left, I was sick. I was able to hold it together until I got to Wagner. I had to pull over. Crying. I was shaking and heaving. I couldn’t stop. I was actually vomiting. I haven’t ever vomited in all the years I can remember. I couldn’t stop. The drive home was very precarious. I couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t stop heaving. I don’t remember falling asleep. I woke up this morning and couldn’t stop heaving. I got some water down, and I threw up again. I called in sick – thank god I didn’t have anything going on. I went back to sleep. I just woke up and I’m going to try to choke down some food.

I feel weak and powerless now. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I did to even deserve any of this. I feel very, very sick to my stomach. I can’t even manage the energy to hate this man. I can’t even see the good in this man anymore.

I can’t even see in front of me anymore.


Well. The OVERWHELMING consensus is OPTION #3.

This is not about getting money out of Doug, or anything else. If I can get a judgment against him to pay, that’s just gravy.

This is about closure. He (and his whore) get labeled for what they are. He HAS to face all this, in front of me, in front of the court, in front of a judge.

If he has to spend money to go through this, ha. This is the thing he wanted, this is going to be thing thing he gets.

Option #3 provides the speed and the expediency of getting him out of my life as quick as possible.

The money I will be spending is the penitence I will pay, the fine, the remittance, the punishment I will suffer for not being as smart as I should have been, for being willfully blind and not as vilgilent as I could have been. You can only be hurt and used if you let someone do it to you.

It’s starting over again after all this for me. This time, hopefully, I will have learned from this all and do this better.

I love you all, and here begins my battle. I no longer will be sad, forlorn or seeking understanding. I will be seeking freedom. I no longer want to be the victim, I seek to be the warrior.

It’s on like Donkey Kong, motherfuckers.

Dec 17, 2017 3:43pm

I am using a dictating app thing to do this. Otherwise I’d be typing all night, and it would look really close to english.

I’m not wallowing in victimhood right now. All thoughts, surprisingly are silent. It just seems I’m only aware of a low level soreness pervading my body, and an exhaustion that is indescribable.

My dog Lila, who I never gave up on, who I made excuses for, who I love very much started a giant attack on little Sophie, and Hurley joined in. I don’t know why she hates Sophie so, but its a thing between them. They seemed to be going along well, until Doug left. At first all the dogs seemed thrown, but the original three seem to settle. Lila start showing signs of aggression, signs of obsessive attention seeking. She started not minding me and demanding things. I think probably there was a vacuum in the power structure, and maybe they sensed weakness in me.

Well. After a most hideous dog fight, one of which I got my face got too close to, I rushed Sophie into the car and we headed off the to the Emergency vet. I am covered in blood. I have it caked all over my face like some horror film geisha, and I either am in a little shock or maybe the pain wasn’t full fledged yet.

2:30 in the morning and I’m trying to find this place. My phone goes out so I’m flying blind. I ask two police officers and three people and nobody could help me – the one officer tried but he sent me the wrong way. I finally pulled over and searched for a charger – thank god I had one. They talked me through directions and I got to the vet, clad in a thin t-shirt, jeans and no shoes. It’s maybe 40 degrees out last night, so it wasn’t pleasant. Sophie had stopped crying and was bouncing around. They looked at me very concerned and offered to examine and keep her, if I would just go to the Emergency Room.

The Emergency Room. The place Doug and I spent 8 hours in the last time I got in a dog tussle. It was about 4:30 when I got there, and it was nearly deserted, and COMPARATIVELY, i got in early – about 45 minutes. Now, I’m exhausted and cold. Things are throbbing on me, and I want to go home. I won’t really describe what was on me in detail, except to say, bruises, punctures and something going on with my face that actually didn’t hurt.

They x-rayed my arm for broken bones or embedded teeth, and that was fine, put a couple stitches in my thumb and then looked in my mouth. Well. It was a laceration that was new to everybody. Aces. So. They said that the flesh that is connected to your lower jaw had been pulled away. Take your tongue and run it along the outside of the jaw, and there’s a hammoch of skin that connects your cheek to your jaw. Mine was…sigh… separated. I could put my tongue down in the hole and when he pulled it open, he said he could see the bottom of my jaw. OOGIE. This is actually the only part of my body that doesn’t really hurt.

The decision was to stitch it back to the jaw (absorbable stitches). That took about an hour. And there was clean up and yada yada. It was 8:00 when I got out of there.

I went to go pick up Sophie and pay a giant bill for her. She apparently had the bites and punctures you would expect, but probably was better this time than the last. This was the last straw. I can’t do it. I can’t do this alone. I had to do something with Lila, and Monday, I’m going to take her down to Richland or Lexington Humane Society. And Hurley probably needs to be rehomed, but there’s probably no way that’s going to happen. I even, in a desperate moment, texted Doug to see if he’d want to take Hurley. That’s a no go. Hurley, with Lila gone is calmer and manageable. I think Lila might be the catalyst for the chaos. And that breaks me in two. It was these dogs that kept me from dying this last two months. They are my family. And now it feels like the last thing I treasured, the last thing of value to me, has been shattered apart. I am defeated at this point about all this. A quiet, numb defeated. And I can hear all the voices “TSK TSK” me in my cupability in this. I am the cause of all this pain. All this… all my efforts to keep the wheels on the wagon. Failed. It’s a quiet feeling of failure. It’s a quiet feeling of defeatism. It might be all temporary. But right now I can’t really form thoughts. I just feel the soreness in my body.

I showered and cleaned up and I actually don’t think I look near as bad or scary as I did. I do have a good deal of swelling, and I’m hoping that goes away.

Sophie and I are barricaded in the back bedroom, with the rest of zoo scratching to get in. I slept only about 6 hours and will try to do more. I need to fill my prescriptions tomorrow, go to therapy, and surrender my dog to the Humane Society. I think I might cry. I’m trying not to think about what I have done. But. This was a screaming call of the universe at me that, I can’t save everyone. I would have thought that would have been Doug as my sign, but maybe the universe thought I was maybe too stubborn to get that message.

Laying down again. One things for sure, I have really terrible holidays.

Dec 18, 2017 7:12am

I’m up. Less swollen, less sore, less sad. Trying not to think about surrendering Lila. She’s now upset. She, Hurley and Sophie are separated, which amounts to Hurley and Lila sitting outside the bedroom and not happy. I can’t have anything like this happen again. I’m by myself and Lila isn’t adjusting to my authority. Haven’t really seen Sopie eat or drink any water. She seems spry and animated though. She’s got an ear infections and very wary of going out the bedroom without me even though I’ve trapped Lila and Hurley in the computer room.

Easley is just confused. Hurley cries. Yeah. It’s really great here.

Don’t want to get up. But I have to. When I get our PTO, DEFINITELY taking a week off.

Looked in the mirror. One side of my face a bit swollen. I hope that goes away. It’s messes up my face – makes one side look more square jawed than the other. I don’t want to make people look at me and feel something is wrong, but not know what it is. I think when the stitches absorb it will be better. Long sleeves will cover most of everything – and i can’t help what’s on my face. Hopefully, my purdy face will come back.

Can’t drink because of the antibotics (or that’s what I assume) and since the beer is where I’ve gotten about half of my calories, I’m going to have to figure something out. Since Saturday, dropped THREE temporary pounds – the pounds you drop when you don’t eat for a day or two.

So I’ll look like a thin monster-faced chick with this brown hair I need to get rid off. The upshot is, my mind is almost empty with thought. There is no low level anything happening. No anxiety. Just the awareness of aches, sorness and the extra weight on my face. I have to make an appointment with a DENTIST just to follow up on this face thing.

The joy of crisis. Just occured to me. The crisis seems to have made me relax. How fucked up is that.

I’ve got therapy, prescriptions, humane society and work.

Now, please, Universe… I’m pretty full-up. My plate is overflowing right now. Possibly give me a tiny little break? You could maybe return my face back to normal here in a while?

Dec 18, 2017 7:46pm

I surrendered Lila today, and it nearly killed me. Hurley is sitting at the door. He won’t sit in here with us. Nobody was out to greet me when I got home. Sophie is happy though. Easley is… well, Easley. I emailed the volunteer director at Pawmetto lifeline, the one I take pictures for, if she would go and get Lila and rescue her, I would pay Lila’s adoption fees, and for one other dog (any dog).

So I wasn’t TOTALLY without an idea. I thought of this in the car on the way home. I can only pray she takes me up on it.

Dec 22, 2017 7:50am

So. I was able to melt into happy this morning. I’ve got this on a loop (below). The boat captain is ME, and the richness of my real self is being co-opted to complete someone else’s facade. I suppose I should take it as a compliment.

At work and it’s silent. But along the way, I saw an amazing sunrise. Today is going to be a GOOD day.

I really like the drive into work. It gives me a chance to think and feel and get everything in order in my head. I often have my best moments in the morning, just before orange sunlight peeks through the clouds. I was able to marvel at the white swirling clouds on the horizon. Today is going to be a GOOD day. I don’t fool myself in thinking I won’t have bad days, but, I’m enjoying the feeling of GOOD right now.

Christmas is coming. Big whup. Just a time on the calendar, just a feeling of money in the air, just a time for tense people and forced good will. Right now, trying to remove myself from just a lot of reality, at least for a little while.

I HAD to get some clothes last night, because I’ve lost 4 dress sizes and I don’t have ANYTHING that fits any more. I bought a belt so I could still wear the black pants but, yeah, it was earlier than I had planned, but I need clothes – at least pants.

Swelling has gone down considerably and I have 60% use of my thumb and two fingers again. The only pain I feel is when I hit one of the little lacerations, and then its “HELLO WORLD” but I’m healing. Face is doing fine, but I still see Mary Jo Buttafuoco (http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2016/10/11/15/394EB6F000000578-3832676-image-a-29_1476197140357.jpg_) staring back at me. Probably not that bad. I feel my nerves regenerating, getting tingling up my arms and in my face. At first I thought it was a heart attack, but then it originated from my fucked up finger, so I jumped BACK from that conclusion and decided I wasn’t dying.

I’m eating a little more now. Seems to go in spurts though. And I can’t stand sugar. I can’t stand the sweet tastes of anything anymore. Don’t know why. Stopped buying tea in the morning because there’s too much sugar in it, even when they cut it with unsweet. I crave salt though. I don’t know why.

I miss Lila SO much. I think Hurley does too. He actually brought me toys and such to play this morning so, I dutifully played until he got tired which was about 8 minutes. Fat dogs tire easily. I looked at Lila’s toys and such, and felt so bad that I didn’t take her blanket and her favorite toys with her. Lila is the thing that will make me break out in tears, if I think about it. That is the loss that is REALLY hard. Even now, I’m fighting tears back, typing this.

I’m doing swell. It’s going to be unbelieveably beautiful tomorrow, and I’m going to take advantage of it. Since I don’t want anything to spoil, what probably will be the one glorious day I have left this year, I’m going to avoid ALL PEOPLE. PEOPLE just have too much dread in their stead and I’m not in the mood to want to feel that.

The war chest is building up, so when I do this thing, this thing that I didn’t choose, this thing that was not my fault, this thing that is usually the last salvo of the lost and unworthy, I will be ready. I will be in a position of power and strength. It’s a position I gave up a bit ago, that I am now reclaiming.

Today is going to be a GOOD day. I’m surrounded by good people, and sunshine. I go home to love. And I am not afraid. Of anything.


Dec 22, 2017 9:13am

The thing I think about now… (real therapy sessions ended for now):

The big problem I have now is that, I don’t see myself deserving of the same consideration as regular victims. I KNEW he was screwed up. I walked into this thing with a level of “yeah, he’s this mentally ill and I’ll accept that, and I can help him become better, because maybe he just needs someone who won’t abandon him” – so maybe it was just a regular relationship and I just have sour grapes.

If it wasn’t a real relationship, then why did he stay? He told me he couldn’t love me with that REAL love (whatever that was) – the spark, the big LOVE. So, maybe it was my fault, because I knew he was crap, and I stayed. I wasn’t fooled into anything. I knew it was a pit of crap I walked into – I guess I just believed it couldn’t get worse. And it did. far worse. and even then? I was willing to forgive (if he would stop drinking and go to counseling). So, maybe this is something that isn’t a thing I can call myself a victim for – so I don’t deserve carrying the mantle of abuse survior…. at least for this. This is what I’m struggling with. So, whatever “struggles” I have, they are … deserved because I did this to myself.

This isn’t a big thing on my mind, but its the thing all the wondering why and trying to figure out what went wrong has evolved into.

Still think its a gloriously fabulous day.


Right now, I’m googling and reading… I think to try and find evidence that would justify my label as abuse victim. I know I’m doing this, and this is why, I think I’m doing this. (shrug) I should know IN MY HEAD he did these things (the more I read, the more boxes I check off for him/me) so I’m feeling more as a legitimate victim of this.

then. I read this:

“2 – Allow yourself to grieve and be angry

Many victims of narcissistic abuse have the false perception that since their partner was a fraud and the relationship was one-sided, that they shouldn’t allow themselves to grieve or vent their anger. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Not allowing yourself to process these feelings often leads to detrimental outcomes at a later point in time, such as getting stuck in emotional, and/or spiritual levels of bereavement.

5 – Stop researching Narcissism 24/7

During the phase of discovery, educating yourself about Narcissism is essential in understanding the traits of the disorder and helps you recognize the dynamics of abusive relationships. However, when it’s time to truly heal, your focus should then turn to healing methods and self-care.

6 – Work on your self-esteem

The number one, most important thing to realize is that the perceived rejection from your abuser is an illusion. Their primary goal is to make you feel invalidated, invisible. What that means is that even if they secretly think you’re attractive, successful, fun to be around, or the best partner they’ve ever had, they will NEVER admit to it, unless they are trying to keep you in the queue.

Narcissists strive to take away every last shred of your self-esteem because that’s how they keep you hooked…to keep you thinking, “I am damaged goods. Better to have someone who treats me like crap than no one at all”. Remember, most of what comes out of their mouth is a lie, including the negative things they say about you.”


I’m realizing the hardest thing for me in all this. Is Self-Forgiveness.

Dec 24, 2017 7:16pm

It’s Christmas.

Trying to get through the day. Not real bad, though I slept through a lot of it. I saw that a friend I haven’t caught up with, Shawn King, had gotten married and, although I am truly happy for him, it made me sad and a little ashamed. People take marriage so seriously and treasure it so much. I took it lightly. I did it for the mundane of reasons. So Doug could have health insurance. People mistakenly said it seemed sudden. It has been seven years of me and Doug being together, living together, going through life together. We were shopping for houses together. Who KNEW seven months later, he’d be gone. So, it didn’t seem sudden to me. It didn’t even really feel any different than pre-marriage – which maybe I should have taken it more seriously. Don’t know. It’s just a passing series of thoughts I mulled over.

I’m not Christmasy. I don’t do holidays for the sake of doing holidays. And usually, what has happened during my holidays don’t make them very festive ocassions for me. I do try to make them special when I have a reason to.

Every year, I tried to make Doug’s birthday (which fell 4 days before thanksgiving) and the holidays a little special. I can’t do traditional like normal people can, but I try to infuse something that makes it more than a normal day. And since his standard was nothing short of traditional Norman Rockwell scenes, I fell short every year, and there was disappointment every year.

The first Doug birthday, I spent with him, I spent sitting there watching him whine over his old girlfriend and complaining that nobody cares about him and he’s spending his birthday by himself (apparently I didn’t rank as time spent). He complained noone got him anything, and no one cared.

The first Christmas, he took me down to the giant family rich people christmas at his parents house. He proceeded to tell these strangers an embarassing story about me being attacked in a bar by some crazy woman, then spent most of the time outside trying to get reception to text his ex girlfriend about how he was having a horrible time without her. Afterwards when we left, he complained how I embarassed him and how his nieces thought I was white trash.

Typing that, I’m starting to kinda cry for that girl. Not for Doug. But for that poor girl. She didn’t deserve that back then. She looked at Doug, back then with fresh, loving eyes. And she just didn’t know.

It’s been about 6 more birthdays and 6 more christmases. It’s been 6 tries at making things better. I tried to make things special, even though since “there wasn’t any kids, there’s not really a reason for christmas.” Because “we weren’t a real family.” I did try though. And I guess right now, 6 years of christmas has just caught up with me. I’m no longer sad for the marriage or the relationship. I’m sad for what I put that girl through. She tried really hard, and I wouldn’t let her quit. The strong one was me – the stubborn one who can fix anything, and make anything right. The wounded child that is driven to make things right. The one who went along with me, who tried to be strong and be selfish and tell me when things weren’t right, I dragged her through this futile crusade, fighting to live the lie as best as I could.

This christmas, me and her are spending a little time together. With what’s left of my family. She still loves me and I still love her. And I’m promising her things will be different. And that things will be better.

I have good days, and I have bad days. Today, wasn’t the best.

Dec 25, 2017 11:40am

Merry christmas. I guess that’s much better to say than Fuck You. But I think I’m jusy done. I was lying awake wondering if I need to go and get my stitches removed (they gave me a “come do follow up and get stitches out” paper). I was feeling like I was progressing and getting better so, I was debating whether to try and take the stitches out myself. Every other time, Doug took my stitches out. i figured, if he could do it, so can I.

So I got scissors, mirror, tweezers and exacto knife. I sat on the bed and whipped them out. Quite proud of myself too. And then I left the knife on the bed…. and forgot about it.

I had decided to get out of bed and when I moved my foot, I suddenly felt a sharp, searing, burning pain going down the top of my foot. Turns out the knife with the brand new blade, cut a deep, long gash vertically down my foot. I immediately clamped my hand down on it and squeezed it, but for a split second I saw it and it was horrific – the type of cut where you see white. I instantly panicked to wonder, did I cut a tendon? a vein? something else I that I need? I waited and wailed a bit for about 3 minutes. There’s wasn’t a ton of pain and not a lot of blood. I wiggled toes and moved the foot. Everything seemed normal. I limped over to the bathtub and ran hot water on it for a while. I pondered if I should go to the emergency room or urgent care, also speculating what is open, what is crowded and do I REALLY need to go? It’s a 40 minute car ride and what could be days in the waiting room. They would most likely stitch it up and give me antibiotics. Right now I’m just coming off of a buttload of antibotics for all these dog wounds so I figured the medication bit I have covered.

Stitches, I think are to keep it from getting infected and maybe heal faster, so I think doing the bandaging like I did (because I’m getting to be an expert at doctoring myself up after horrible accidents) could do the same thing.

I need first aid stuff. I don’t have any….( just now I typed “we”. That now is weird to me that, I do that normally, all throughout my relationship and Doug never did. You would have never known he had someone, unless you really checked.) I got in the car, in search of someting that was open. I got to the family dollar and they didn’t open for another 20 minutes even though it seemed there was a whole crowded parking lot filled with people waiting for the doors to open.

But as much as I could just wallow in that over analysis of that crap, I have a throbbing in my foot. Every little errant pain not the actually injury I think is the start of lockjaw or paralysis or staph or mersa. So I wanted to nap, but now if I do, I’ll die of mersa and they’ll be no one here to call 911.

So, I’ll make you a deal. I’m going to take a nap now, but, if I don’t get back online in about an hour or two, call me becasue I may indeed have passed out from infused staph or I have mersa coursing through my veins and I’m about to die.

BTW. Damn, my foot hurts. Kinda like my screwed up thumb did for a while. Thinking about it, all the doctors and what not did was clean my wounds, not even bandaged them up. Shit. I need to google that neosporin-in-your-wound thing…. I wonder since I am getting sleepy, is that a precursor to dying?

I HATE 2017 and the holidays. I will be overjoyed to have all this shit over with….

Dec 26, 2017 8:29am

It’s fucking AMAZING what sunshine and a volvo s40 will do for you. All the trepidation and sadness and angst and anger and pain of this weekend (off and on) melted away. I am FUCKING floored. Good and Bad days. The good days are coming more and more and are getting …. gooder? and gooder….

There’s a weight off my shoulders from this weekend, although I did have a good one – and except for the horrendous injury I did to myself, it was better than I had anticipated.

Now I’m sitting here, all by myself at work. No lie, there’s like 4 people here in the whole building. But STILL people park in the parking lot like they are fucking retards… and its always the turd nuggets in the SUV caddies that say, “Fuck you people, I’m going to park like a pompous ass”.

Foot feels tremendously better although I AM going to stop by urgent care to make sure it’s all right. They may put me on more antibiotics, so I’ll be sober for another week.

I’m having mixed feelings about the area I live in. I like the comfy of my house and the two acres, but dang if there is nothing to do, and the only thing basically is going to a bar for football or a band. Nobody ever wants to turn on the Chiefs, and I hate college football, ESPECIALLY the gamecocks and whatever that tiger deal is. The bands suck because if I hear fucking 70s music ever again, I’m going to take a machine gun and thin out the population. Swear to god, if I hear “get your motor runnin’” anymore, I’m going to throttle the closest motherfucker within reach with my shoe. No more Bad Company, Allman Brothers, Styx, Journey, Foreigner, Zeppelin, Stones, Floyd, Skynyrd, ZZ Top, Van Halen or any of the country shit that pervades this place like some sort of fungus. The amount of this shit played is a 1 to 1 ratio of how many dumbfuck redneck chowderheads that are around. I did discover that Augusta has a nice art and music deal, and although I’m not arty farty (I’m more herdy nerdy) its blues and jazz. It’s different and cool. I tried to get Doug to go to some of the festivals and stuff, but that was always a no-go.

Too cold to take pictures, fucked up my foot so, no running for a while (and the walking has turned into running, now because I’ve discovered I get goofy-brain faster that way) and the dogs….. REALLY…. need a bath. So does that damn cat. I’ll work on all that.

Everything is healing, even I think the foot. I’ve got scars, but they will fade – and well. I’m proud of my scars. They are kind of medals on my bravery, stupidity, stubbornness and capacity to care – both visible and invisible.

My thin pants are now becoming looser so, fuck. I can’t stand sugar now. I think I can, and then I have a bite of something sweet and I have to spit it out. I had two sips of a cherry coke this morning and almost puked. I can have apples and now have started craving apples and shit like that. I’m starting to buy crudité platters, and I’M JUST ONE PERSON.

Craving water too. I’m wondering if I’m type 2 diabetes. I put in all these symptoms in google – sick of sugar, wanting water, eating vegetables and eventually type 2 diabetes came up. I was sick to my tummy all week/weekend, but I think that was the antibiotics maybe. Or stomach cancer.


Still nobody.

man. its going to be a long, lonely day.

Dec 29, 2017 3:46pm

Through a miscommunication with dhec, a mistake they made, Lila was put under quarantine and then euthanized by the shelter. I am sitting here raging and broken. Part of my family has been euthanized. Because of a stupid misunderstand of Dhec. My dog is dead. A member of my family is dead.
Had made arrangements for pawmetto to go get her, and I don’t think they did since the shelter wouldn’t have given them a quaranteed dog. I was assured by DHEC that the report I made because of my emergency room visit would in no way hinder her adoption efforts. I was told by the shelter that they would do their best to get her into an adoption program.

Dec 31, 2017 12:35pm

Happy holidays.

Making myself go out today to watch football and eat dinner with friends. It will be a long drive. I’m hoping I get in a better mood. I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself. I’m imagining everybody (especially Dingus) is having a wonderful time with people they love. I’m just having a pity party here. I think for the next 5 minutes, I’ll let me be all “poor me”.

I’m not really understanding what I am missing, besides, the dog and… I guess it would be companionship. Because we never did anything for NYE. No parties, no hoopla, no nothing. Ditto for christmas. I am find the vindictive in me and hoping Doug’s having an empty lonely, really drunken holiday.

I’m not sure what I should do. I don’t need to get on the road for hours.

I did tell Doug about Lila. I started out the text “Please dont text me back but…” and he then, 12 hours later, I guess after partying/screwing his girlfriend, texted me crying emojis. What a fraud.

I am NOT in a good mood and I really am trying to be. I don’t know how to empty my mind of all this. It’s sunshiney and really cold. Don’t know if I just started out now, what I’d do for the extra 3 or 4 hours I have till, well, whatever.

yeah. not one of my good days.

Onto Divorce Slog 4