One year ago today, I posted my very first blog. It was titled “The Beginning.”
The Loser puppet was finalizing his plans to take the WTC puppet-master for a three-week trip to Denmark and Norway. The WTC puppet-master wanted to make sure I knew he was taking her so she sent me a message. She’s so very thoughtful.
I didn’t know at the time that it was also the day my divorce became final. How ironic that I picked that day for my first post. I didn’t find out until late in September. (The Loser puppets’ attorney seems to have had a little more on the ball than mine did.) I don’t know when I would have found out, had my financial planner not called me to go over a few things and said he had a copy.
Since then, my life has changed in ways that I would have never dreamed it would. I never call myself “divorced.” I call myself “single.” I think you had to have had a real marriage to actually be divorced. I consider myself to just be free from a lifetime of physical, mental and emotional neglect and abuse.
I got rid of him. I got rid of his name. I got rid of everything that was ever “ours.” I got rid of everything he ever gave me, whether out of guilt or obligation. I got rid of my car because he had driven it.
Just today, I finally read the last email he sent to me on August 17th, 2015. I think today would be a good day to go back almost ten years, and delete every message from him. I have deleted him from my life but there are some things that I can’t delete.
I can’t delete the horrendous thing he did to me that has left me emotionally scarred and grief-stricken for the last thirty-eight years.
I can’t delete the first betrayal years later, that left me with an incurable disease and tarnished me for the rest of my life. I can’t delete the way he and his WTC puppet-master have manipulated my children into thinking they’re “the good guys” and I’m insane.
He took things from me. He took my youth. He took my trust. He took my faith in fidelity. He took my health. He destroyed the only family that I had ever felt was truly mine.
Sometimes, I wish my children wanted to know the whole truth. Sometimes, I wish they could understand how it feels to be betrayed by the one person you trusted above all others. They are so much like him in so many ways. Opt for the easy way out. Choose what makes you comfortable. Choose the one who was never there for you but is pretending to be now. Choose the path of least resistance.
I have essentially deleted my children from my life as well. I can’t be in their lives as long as they openly welcome and embrace the very people who did everything they could to destroy me.
They are triggers for me. They bring back memories of how things used to be. They make me anguish over what might be. They have children that I will never know or see grow up.
They are ecstatic that the Loser puppet is happy. If they were still in my life, that would spill over onto me but not with wishes for my happiness. There would be accusations and admonitions for not crawling out of my “dark place.” They would think that I should embrace the woman who was fucking my husband (and telling him to warn me that I’d better not come to South Carolina again.) They would think that I should treat her like part of the family. They would think I should act like the Loser puppet is a really good friend of mine.
They share the Loser puppets’ views as far as…there should never be any consequences for immoral behavior or vitriolic hostility. There should only be blame for the victim, who is unable to grasp the effects of betrayal and abuse.
I think I have always known that I would end up alone and that’s okay. I am alone. I finally broke out of my torture cell. I removed myself from the people who hurt me so badly and made me so sad. I removed myself from the people who made me feel worthless…the people who screamed at me and made me feel like I didn’t matter.
Will I think about my children on their birthdays? Of course. Will I send them wishes? No. Will I think about them on Thanksgiving and Christmas? I will try not to because I seriously doubt that they will be thinking about me.
I won’t say that I don’t care. I will just say that I can’t care. I’ve already suffered too much. I spent my entire life wishing that I had a mama I could talk to. I hope none of my children ever wake up and wish that they could talk to theirs.
So, I have a different life now. I have a different world. I am free. I feel like I finally won.
But…I guess you could say this is a Pyrrhic victory. I finally won…but it cost me everything.