Category Archives: Marriage

Failures Make The Best Stories Later

Posted on by Standard 11

good friendsI was talking to my friend Scott the other day, and I mentioned how I had read every single advice column known to mankind about infidelity, divorce, separation, etc., and pretty much broke every cardinal rule there was in my quest to recover from the damage my ex did to me. I can laugh about it now, but I can see where most of this sage counseling would have made things a little easier on me. Problem is, I’m rarely in control of any of my emotions when I’m hurt. I figured I’d share my mishaps with my friends here so all the women out there who know what they should do, but still do the very worst things anyways will have some company.

There’s tons of sites, but I’m not going to quote from just one. Instead, I’ll pick out the ones that really, really were glaringly  correct, and I equally glaringly blew them off anyways. :-)

INFIDELITY ADVICE FROM THE EXPERTS

1. Practice indifference. Cheaters are usually flaming narcissists. The cruelest thing you can do to a cheater is pay no attention to them.psycho

And this is what Bird did: I completely agree that this would have been my best course of action. Instead, I wrote him emails, letters, blog posts, text messages, and slapped him with a PO order. I waited by the phone for him to call. I dropped everything and came running any time he crooked his finger. All said, the guy has a library of correspondence from me that he admits he never read.

2. Let them live with the natural consequences of their crappiness. Cheaters are really good at not taking responsibility. They pin the blame on you.

And this is what Bird did: Because I felt fate and consequence would take entirely too long, I moved the timelines I could control up a notch. I tanked a million dollar lawsuit we’d been a hair’s breath away from winning, because of one snide comment from Chef about pretending he loved me to get the money. One comment. One. :-) I turned off every utility that was in my name, and scheduled them to be off on the same day. I sent texts messages to his new girlfriend about embarrassing secrets he had. I called them both every mean name in the book. There’s more, but I think you get the jist. I was pissed.

3.  Succeed. Go be awesome. You’ll enjoy that in its own right, but I promise you, it will get back to the cheater.

And this is what Bird did: I didn’t totally fail on this one, but it’s all relative if you think about it. Chef lost pretty much everything because of an addiction, so he didn’t set the bar to succeed all that high. Yes, my rent is paid, but I also live in the ghetto. He is unemployed, and I have a job, but it’s the same job I had before. I think where I really succeeded is that I learned to laugh again quicker, and he is still struggling to just get up each day.

4. Expand your world, make new friends and try new things.

And this is what Bird did: Especially at the beginning of the separation, I withdrew from anyone and anything. I hated that I seemed to not be able to think about infidelty fail 911anything or anyone but myself and how much this all had hurt me. I drank like a fish, mixing ambien with it at times, wrote mean posts, sobered up, pulled them down again, and cried, cried, cried. I could hear my anger in every word I said, and it made me feel even worse. Finally, after Bekkie put her foot down about booze, I began to address the emotions, live through them, and as they were tackled, I got the sense that things just might calm down. Still, it took a really long time for me bother with new friends or new hobbies. My world was really, really lonely.

5. Keep being the individual you were before you got in the relationship. When you give up aspects of yourself, you stop being the person your partner fell in love with.

And this is what Bird did: When you get married in your early twenties, and stay that way until your mid-forties, my guess is this advice isn’t all that good. In true form, I reverted back to a dork teen-ager that had been dumped by her first boyfriend. :-) Shall we call that a point for me? I’m still learning who I am, and that has been one of the few things about this whole crappy chapter of my life that I’m really enjoying. I’m a work in progress, but at least I’m progressing.

6. Don’t talk about relationship problems with other potential love interests. Common sense, right?

And this is what Bird did: And still does — talks to The Guy about Chef a lot. But I’m actively trying not to bring things up all the time. Or at least wait for him to ask before bringing it up. What can I say? I’m traumatized.

7. Don’t use contact with other people to make your partner jealous. This is a form of manipulation. Even if gets your partner’s attention, he or she will resent you for it and think less of you.house for sale

And this is what Bird did: Rubbed his nose in all of them. Maybe he thinks less of me for it, but I don’t really care. 

8. Don’t cast insults at your ex or his affair partner. You are the victim, and as such, you maintain more dignity than either of them will ever have if you remain composed.

And this is what Bird did: I did not remain composed in any shape, form, or fashion; nor can I say I was in the least bit dignified. Once, I physically hit both of them in their/my living-room. I perceived smugness from them both, and reacted accordingly… I muddied the waters with my reactions, and when it was all said and done, I regretted almost everything I said and did all along the way.

These are just a tiny scattering of the many, many wisdoms I couldn’t seem to follow. So, to my fellow sisters on their own journeys through hell, my only advice would be

Me & T - Ninja Warriors battling for the love of a man who cheated on us both. We're both winnners..even if you can't really tell. :-)

Me & T – Ninja Warriors battling for the love of a man who cheated on us both. We’re both winners..even if you can’t really tell. :-)

to not be all that hard on yourself even if you fail. If all of this didn’t hurt so badly, we could have all followed these truths with no problem. But when something strikes us to the very core of everything we’d built our worlds around, a bit of psychotic, extreme behavior is to be expected….and later, those are the episodes that make the best stories. :-)

– Bird

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As With Everything in Life, Things Begin to Wind Down

Posted on by Standard 22

The last few weeks have been confusing for me. Even though I really wanted to, I chose not to write about the events until I was sure I understood what it all meant to me. imagesToday, though some things are  still up in the air, I seem to have a firm grasp on what I think about this last dramatic year.

Chef’s girlfriend, T, left him a week ago. They had been in a relationship with each other not quite a year. The overlap with my marriage was about four months.

As women tend to do, the girlfriend and I did compare notes, and T was able to answer a lot of the questions that had burned themselves into my soul, and while they still caused some pain, the truth has laid them to rest for me. No more fevered-brain stories I’d spin for myself deep in sleepless nights, all because I just didn’t know for sure. Did he ever love me? Does he despise me? Did he cheat with her for years and I was too stupid to notice? I’m sure every person who’s ever experienced this has pondered sadly and fearfully some of the same ones.

But when I was able to ask T, and she was able to ask me about my perspective, a lot of those questions just evaporated. I knew I was hearing the truth, and that truth had set me free.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly (and sometimes, not so secretly)  hope they weren’t very happy from the minute they moved in together. I was so freaked out in the beginning of this mess, I’d have thrown a party to celebrate every single tear they shed. I felt so miserable, and it seemed from my vantage point, that they were peacefully playing house and flippantly unconcerned about how me or the kids, or our friends, and even our pets felt about any of it.

Betrayed, I tortured myself with hope, despaired over every good and bad memory, and let my imagination envision them happily building their new life together, unencumbered by their pasts and confident in their future together. Dreams of them having babies, dancing slowly to music I loved, or just snuggling on the couch watching a movie would dance mercilessly through my mind, and a lot of my tears were shed over those vain imaginations as well. I won’t even go there about thoughts of them in the bedroom! The whole situation was just horrible… I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even Chef.

My imagination can be my very worst enemy in situations like these, and I tended to work diligently to find out the truth about this affair, just to dispel the myths I knew I would come up with if I was left to my own conclusions. The problem was, I changed their dynamic with each other whenever I was around, so I knew that my presence was “tainting” the evidence. I’d try to feel out Chef whenever I could, but as usual, Chef pretty much only told me what he thought I would want him to say, and not the actual truth.

If he was mad at me, he’d sing T’s praises, and rub his happiness in my face, dropping out key words to barb me with like love, companionship, and comparing her to me.

If he was feeling sentimental about me, the opposite was true. He’d find ways to paint a picture of himself stuck, martyr-like and full of regret, in a hopeless situation he’d accidentally launched us all into. Here he was, longing for the beautiful wife of his youth, who had been torn away from him by the demon drug and a midlife crisis.

Yet, in an act of penance,  he’d live the rest of his life with this new girl, knowing he was caged in by his mistakes, but ultimately not able to extricate himself from the situation because T would be unable to care for herself. He’d be responsible for ruining her life as well, he’d lament, and after ruining mine, he couldn’t do that again to another human being.

Basically, I heard: “I want my cake, and I want to eat it too.”

Also, “Womp, womp womp. Poor me. Womp, womp, womp. Not my fault. Womp, womp.”

You can trust me when I say this: whatever, dude. I was born at night, but it wasn’t yesterday night!

I wasn’t fooled by these kinds of statements, though I have to admit that in his condition these days, Chef might have actually convinced himself this was indeed the case. His timeline is completely ludicrous, his memory very faulty, and his lies too many. Even he has admitted now that he just can’t remember how all of this came to happen. His lies had been told enough times, however, that they were beginning to become the truth as he knew it. And maybe if I hadn’t been writing about all of this both on-line, and in my journals, he might have lapsed happily in those revisions. I wouldn’t let him, though, dragging out journals, and pulling up posts feverishly at every turn, because his revisions always make me or to a limited degree, T the ones that caused this mess, and allow him to hide from his own conscience. I don’t want to be his fall guy..not for something this crappy. Everyone sucked all the way through this experience…Chef, T, and me. I’ve got my own sack of garbage to carry around. Don’t pile yours on me, as well.

Though it was easy to get lost in the fear and humiliation, I was smart enough, even from the beginning,  to know that every thing that goes around, comes around again. Still,  I worried they’d be the exception.

I’d always heard “men don’t leave their wives for their mistresses”. Mmmm, mine did.

I’d heard that the other woman is the rock that men throw away the wives that are diamonds for. Mmmm, T was pretty much a diamond herself. Yes, she cheated with a married man, and she took the occasional pot shot at me. But, I have to admit, she really hasn’t been all that easy to really, truly despise. I’ll go more into T in another post. I don’t want this one to be as long as Gone With The Wind.

From the very day I moved out of the house up until a week ago, Chef was reluctant to let me go. The main reason I struggled so hard letting him go was because he would say or do something that would melt my anger away, and when I’m not really pissed at him, all my defenses droop like dead flowers. Decades of living with each other had taught both of us how to effectively get what we wanted out of each other. Well, let’s say it did for awhile, that is. Even though we saw each other rather disconcertingly regularly for separated people with no minor kids, we were both changing subtly, and somewhere along the way, words or actions that were guaranteed to work in reaching the heart of the other person, just didn’t work at all anymore. Reactions, especially from me, could be different from minute to minute, and I can say on my part, even I had no clue what something said might trigger in me. For a guy who’d become a professional at NOT looking deeply inside of himself, that made this whole thing unstable and explosive, and probably easy to pin on the psycho wife.

I’ve pondered a lot of stuff, and there’s just too much to write about in one post.

 

My Heart’s A Traitor Bastard

Posted on by Standard 34

I cried today. A lot.

Now, if you’ve been following this blog for the last year and some months, you’re probably saying to yourself, so what? This girl has

You moved a girl-chipmunk into our hole, gave her my nuts (and yours), and everyone saw. But these flowers make it all better, baby. Give me a smooch.

You moved a girl-chipmunk into our hole, gave her my nuts (and yours…tsk, tsk), and all our chipmunk friends saw. Now I live in a rundown hole in the ghetto. But these flowers make it all better, baby. Give me a smooch.

been crying for over a year now. But the truth is, I’ve been relatively content the last few months, and tears haven’t been all that common. But in the last few weeks, a lot of stuff has been happening around me, and today, I finally broke down and had a nice, long cry-fest. Sometimes, tears are the only way to cleanse a wounded soul. And mine is sparkling clean right now.

I’m only guessing, but I think every jilted wife in the world has this secret fantasy that their wandering husband will wake up one day, kick the other woman to the curb, and come crawling back, professing their undying love between the heart-felt regrets for what they’d done to us.  It’s a stupid daydream in all it’s simple-ness; by the time the wanderer has wandered, there is a mountain of crap to be shoveled through before reconciliation can even be considered, and mere words don’t even begin to cut it. If , that is, reconciliation is even something these broken wives hope for. I’m betting there is more interest in seeing their husbands having a high-heeled shoe surgically removed from their a$$es than any kind of sorrowful regret / let’s-live-happily-ever-after moments. But I’m actually not one of these normal, broken women. As pathetic as it may sound, deep down in the hidden recesses of my heart, I wanted my husband to come back some day. And for some added humiliation, I’ll go ahead and admit it. I still love Chef. So much for being a secret bad-a$$ ninja woman. I’m a sap.

I’m a person that holds logic in high regard, and it is with no small amount of embarrassment that I admit this to you all. Despite all the betrayal, humiliation, and dashed hopes, I still wanted my husband to come and sweep me off my feet again. And that deep desire has been the bane of my existence for months now. While it’s true that I haven’t felt that excruciating pain like I did in the beginning, and I’ve been able to happily believe at some points that I was over him, I’ve noticed this disturbing trend in myself. The less angry I feel, the more I can still feel that love for him.

Will someone please shoot me?

The Chef and T Love Fest has been going downhill over at the old Homestead for a while now, and even my poor dogs look traumatized by the rather quick run this relationship seemed to have taken, almost from the minute they moved in together. It is a sterling example of the very truth that the old cliché preaches — the grass is never greener on the other side. I won’t pour out the intimate circumstances of the up-and-coming demise of their relationship…It is their story, and I’m only a third-party spectator with limited rights to it, but I will say this. I can’t say with any real honesty that I wasn’t a little happy to see it all fall to crap, and so quickly at that. So much for the next Romeo & Juliet romance.  :-)

I know.

It is a very ungodly attitude, but as I told you all before..I don’t have this Christian thing down yet when it comes to my separation and impending divorce. I still suffer from being a fallen human with a fallen nature. And as T has had to experience, in lesser degrees, some of the emotions I had experienced when she and my husband decided they were in love, I’ve found a lot of that crazy anger melting away. Turns out, revenge loses some of its charm without that anger to fuel it.

I actually dreamed of the time when T and Chef would get a taste of their own medicine, and yet, when it really actually happened, I found myself less gleeful than I had expected, and rather a little more sad for them. None of the major players in this creepy triangle are happy for the most part. Actually, I’m the one who seems to be enjoying my life more consistently. How weird is that?? Satan must be having a blast at the amount of misery he’s been able to spread around in my little circle. What a douche.

Which has led me back to my original thoughts. Would I take him back? I think the answer is maybe. On the one hand, forgiveness isn’t a problem for me. I can forgive him. But trust, on the opposite hand, is a huge problem in my life. And the trust is gone, gone, gone. But, what if he and I were to get counseling? Oh, please. I’ve tried how many counselors for lesser things in my life? And I’ve stuck with none of them. And he’s worse than I am about that kind of stuff. Then, I’ve asked myself if he really loved me, how could he have done all the stuff he did? And here’s where I get stuck. He couldn’t have, could he? His words these days are perfect, as usual, but I’m not a fool enough to believe this man I’ve lived with my entire adult life doesn’t know just what to say to manipulate me. But, where are the actions to back up the words? Until recently, there were none, but he’s starting to do little things that make me wonder.

And I just hate that!

This cartoon sums my life right now perfectly. Chef is chasing Bird...but what will happen if he catches her? Fried chicken?

This cartoon sums my life right now perfectly. Chef is chasing Bird…but what will happen if he catches her? Fried chicken?

Let’s face it. As long as Chef and Bird live in the same city, we’re always going to be connected. We both find it easy at times to slip back into the comfortably worn routines we’d had with one another all these years, and while I can’t say what it does for him, I can say it makes me long for those simpler, happier times I was secure in his love. And anymore, he voices more and more of his regret over all that has happened to our marriage and family, and more importantly (to me), his dissatisfaction with his new relationship. And now that she is setting up her own escape route, I’m faced with the decision…move on without him, or explore the possibility that this marriage might have a tiny chance if we were to work on it.

Today, all the stuff going on in my life, added to Chef’s very early morning visit to my apartment this morning, where he cried for hours over all that has happened, including hurting me, his children, and T, and his one, true humble apology added to his pleading for another chance, all culminated into a good cry this afternoon.

To my chagrin, not once did I even think about kicking him in the butt with my own high-heeled shoe. Instead, I just wanted God to take that lingering love for him out of my heart, or to just make this last year and a half disappear completely. I want a Do-Over.

And incidentally, God is completely blowing off my requests. I guess I’m always going to love Chef. I might never be his wife again, but the love is still there. And whether I like it or not, all of this really did happen. It isn’t just going to go away. Oh, my treacherous heart!!

Anyways, this is more of a mental health post than anything. I’d love to know if there are any other wives that wish they didn’t feel this vulnerable to their exes, like me.

– Bird


The Keeper of My Demons

Posted on by Standard 23

As I’ve been saying over the last few weeks, I’ve settled into a pleasant routine here in my ghetto apartment. For the most part, I wallsexist completely separate from Chef and I am growing to really appreciate that. However, I’m noticing a different routine that is forming, and I’m absolutely going to root this one out of my life. It is a new routine Chef and I have developed, and I had to really decide last night to be the one to stop it.

Chef and I can’t make it through one conversation without fighting anymore. All communication has finally broken down, and yet, I find myself trying to communicate with him about how all of his choices and decisions have hurt me anyways! And he, in turn, throws up every wall he can erect to make sure we don’t focus on his shortcomings, instead constantly diverting the subjects back to how I have reacted to the various insults I feel he and his girlfriend have launched at me.

He thinks I over-reacted to all of it. You have got to love the male mind. :-)

And, I, of course, think he’s awfully easy on himself given the different rings of hell he’s introduced to my life. I know. Typically Female.

There is no way for us to meet in the middle here, and the bickering and fighting is worthless. I want to stop it.

Now, in all fairness, I’m beating a dead dog here every time I launch into that tired line of reasoning with him ad nauseam.

Why every single stupid conversation has to come back to all the cheating, lying, sneaking around, and the mind-twisting move of installing his affair-partner into our home, in my bed, and letting her wear my clothes, is beyond me. I don’t even really want to talk about it anymore. And yet, without fail, he’ll make a snide comment about how I cost us millions of dollars by tanking a lawsuit we were in, (and yes, I did do that), and I’ll  just have to defend myself by throwing back in his face what he did that made me do that.

And then it’s on.

Another boring, merry-go-round argument, that we’ll just end up digressing to the point that we’re launching rather witty and clever, but also very mean, and somewhat childish names at one another….Again. Then, we’ll withdraw into our perspective corners of Tulsa,  and there will be no communication…for anywhere between one day to two weeks, depending on just how below the belt we attacked each other in our last round. It’s pathetic, and I’m sick of repeating this useless exercise.

The silence is peaceful, and just as I’m relaxing into not wondering what he is doing, or how he is faring, I’ll get a text message from him. Some of them have been super sweet; some nostalgic for the days we were happy; some lyrics to my favorite songs; some downright sad; and all of them have the power to soothe me enough that I immediately break my promise to myself to ignore him forever, and respond. I wish I could say I was able to withstand the lure for even an hour. Nope. I’m woefully sappy when it comes to those texts. It’s just disheartening how quickly I text him back, that tiny bit of hope sparking back to life in the back of my brain.

Then, it quickly falls to crap, and I’m sitting there remembering how I could have IGNORED that text, and this latest disrespectful event wouldn’t have happened. Hind-sight is 20/20…dammit, Bird!!

I’ve noticed lately that we don’t communicate with one another well at all. And I’m pondering the question — What do we really have to talk about anymore? Our lives aren’t continuing down the same paths. We aren’t working on a relationship. We don’t have little children that keep us connected. The children that we did raise are adults, and can be contacted directly without me. We have no reason to stay in touch. I miss the way we used to be able to finish each other’s sentences, but that connection is severed, and it is just a form of torture to have to go through these emotional sparing with each other just to come out on the other side with the knowledge that it is simply over. How many times do we need to repeat this stupid exercise? Oh, please.

What would happen if he actually was sorry? Would I welcome him back in my broken heart? Can a dozen love letters untangle this mess he left me in? Would I go back to being the girl I was before if he publicly denounced the twit he lives with now and proclaimed his love for me from the rooftops? No. You can’t un-ring the bell.  The rose-colored glasses are off, and I can see both of us much clearer. I’d never be able to pretend I didn’t know the depths of his ability to hurt those he swore to love, protect, and care for. I know what I’m capable of, too, when hurt beyond what I ever thought I’d be able to endure. I’m learning to trust myself all over again…But he’s been introduced to a part of me that he never knew was there either. The relationship has changed from the knowledge of who we are capable of being, and there’s no going back.

There was a time I could have forgiven all of this and set about patching our relationship back up, but that time has come and gone long ago. There’s too much damage done, and daily we stab at each other some more, for no constructive reasons at all. Do I really care if he ever misses me? Maybe. I’m human. But I can live without him being sorry. I can live without him taking responsibility. I can live without him…period. I prove that daily.

Should I continue to let him come and go as he pleases, I’m worried that even the good memories of him will be tainted by this new, sad, angry, sneering version I purposely walked away from…repeatedly.  I say Chef left me behind, but I’m the one who left the marriage because of his infidelity, lying, and general coldness. Sometimes, it is good to remember that I was the one who had the courage to walk away into the unknown future.

It’s sad to leave an old friend behind, but you just have to when they cease to be your friend, and are, instead, the keeper of all your demons.

So, today, I’m deciding YET AGAIN to let Chef fade out of my life for good. Hopefully, I’ll be able to withstand the draw of Hope! :-)

– Have a Lovely Friday!!!

Bird