Sometimes…

Sometimes anxiety and depression are strange bedfellows and made worse when C-PTSD come into play. Sometimes when I’m in that hole, telling me solutions will help pull me out. But sometimes…

Sometimes it digs me deeper. Sometimes it makes me think that those options would work for a regular person, but not me. Sometimes I feel isolated by your suggestions and wish you would just crawl down here and hold me while I feel like shit.

Sometimes that makes you feel like shit, like I don’t listen to you. Sometimes it makes you think I’m all about the negative and all my work has reverted. That I’m 2017 Me again…. and sometimes I think you are right.

Sometimes that makes the ditch swallow me whole. That I have fallen so far, that I am so unworthy that the work I did wasn’t enough. Sometimes I think it never will be. That I will never get better no matter how hard I work….

Sometimes it makes me angry. Makes me feel like all you want to do is fix me, and make me positive 100% of the time. Sometimes it makes me feel like you don’t love the broken dirty parts of me, but only love me when I’m the happier me.

Sometimes you love me, and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you help me, sometimes I wish you wouldn’t. Sometimes I wish you would just love me bad and broken. Sometimes I feel like you never could. Sometimes I think I deserve someone who would, and sometimes I believe that only death will.

A is for…

Asshole? You fucking Cunt! Not to sully the good name of Cunt, but oh boy is A for you and is A for absolutely-synonymous with worthless excuse for a woman. And yes I know that you’re not the only one, do you? I know he wasn’t the only one for you.

You think you guys are meant to be? Well, get ready for the truth: You’re not. Plain and simple. Not in ‘97, not in 2007, not in 2017, and certainly not in 2027. However, I must admit you apathetic assholes deserve each other! You’re adulterers and liars who have such little respect for the sanctity of marriage. Neither of you understand the gravity of your actions, but trust me soon enough you will.

Yes, I am mad at him, and yes I am going to deal with him directly because he chose to do what he did. But I’m going to address you here. You didn’t give me the decency of an apology so you don’t get the decency of my private correspondence. You get put on blast here. So as your love says “put it in your blog”… here it is.

How fucking dare you? How little self respect does one need to have to put their own marriage and the lives of their three boys in trouble? For what? Tell me for what? I gave him the freedom to run to you. Why is he still here with me? What did you tell him? Why did you deny him? Did you finally see that he wasn’t the right one? Or that your stability was in danger? Did you finally realize that the universe would not send another woman’s husband to save you? Or did you just do this for sport?

I was giving everything to my marriage, to save what I love, what I worked so hard for. Did you think I deserved what I got for failing to pay attention? Well tell me cuntface, what do you deserve then? What is the appropriate karma for trying to steal another woman’s husband? Should I send all the receipts to your husband and let him figure out what your karma should be? Or should I just wait for the sins of the mother to fall on the son?

You’re a grimey, entitled, scared girl who needs to either talk to her husband about how shitty he is, or leave before starting something with someone else. You will never receive the love you are looking for, or that you say you need, bleeding all over others. Ruining their families and pretending it’s fate while all along you never intended to backup all that talk.

Part of me would like to print the whole list of emails, the pictures, the poems, the love notes, the whole fucking shebang baby! Bring it for a trip up to Jersey. Drop them in your hubby’s car or place of work. Or would you prefer I put them in your neighbors mailboxes? Can you tell me how many of these pics you sent him too? Or the other man… um men?

I could make a play for your man… See if I can’t get him to do something even more heinous. How about me having that little girl you always wanted with your husband? Sounds like fun right? I think so… How about your littlest boy calling me Mommy one day?

Or I could get my crazy on, I mean the old school Lizzie-crazy. I haven’t had a good fight in a long time, you wanna square up? We can settle this like men would, and TRUST me I am more man than you ever will be. And I take that as a compliment. No weapons needed, I will choke the life out of you with your own gigantic stripper titties. Or, how would you like it if I pinch that massive nose of yours and suffocate you by making you suck my cock till you puke and make you swallow that?

Kind of wish I was still that person, but I’m not. I know the universe will take care of you and this mess. Both he and you are going to realize the full horror and pain your actions have caused. I know this to be true, even if I never see it. Although if there is any magic left in this body I will get front row seat to the carnage. Will you be woman enough to see it when it comes for you? Will you ever grow up enough to even say you’re sorry?

Here is the thing… I forgive you for it, I do. It’s something I always saw in the distance and finally just stopped keeping from happening. I’m glad it was as good for you as it was for him. I hope you learned something, and I hope you understand that it is out of the goodness of my heart that I don’t destroy everything you hold dear. DO NOT mistake that kindness for weakness again.

I do not wish this pain on even you, my most mortal enemy. However, I do wish you healing. Why you ask? Because there has to be something really broken, still, in you to do this to someone. Especially when you know in great detail what it felt like to be on both sides of the coin. Until you respect other women, you will never respect yourself. I wish you good luck in that journey.

Sincerely,

The “Bigger” Woman

P.s. I know this is childish, but just a word of warning. He’s told people about what happened, I’ve told people, and now this? It’s only a matter of time before it becomes community knowledge. We run in some of the same crowds. I suggest you come clean before you’re forced to deny and lie. Always: The truth eventually comes out. SWAK

 

Editor’s note: Wow. That’s some powerful stuff. Well-said, my Love.

 

Read When You Feel Unworthy

Remember the time you drove all the way to Rhode Island, in a blizzard, just to see me?

Remember the times you helped me when I cried over school?

Remember the time you helped me through a panic attack before a big project?

Remember the time you dropped to one knee and gave me a huge sapphire?

Remember the times you carried me financially?

Remember the time you gave me your car so I could get back to school?

Remember the time you took me to DR and got to meet Lynette and her family?

Remember the time you encouranged me to meet my father?

Remember the times you lifted me up when I felt insignificant?

Remember the times you forgave me for hurting you?

Remember the times you helped me move?

Remember the time you purchased a bed with me?

Remember the times you wiped away my tears?

Remember the time you stood up to your family for me?

Remember the times you rescued me from not having a car?

Remember the time you forgave me for fucking up your scion?

Remember the time I broke your heart and you still forgave me?

Remember the time you came over to take care of me?

Remember the times I tried to push you away and you stayed by my side?

Remember the times you let me come over to get away from my family?

Remember the times you reminded me that I have friends and I am worthy of love?

Remember the times I hit you and you still forgave me?

Remember the times when you Loved me and I couldn’t love myself?

Remember the times we went to weddings and felt truly blessed?

Remember the time I stalked you and you still let me in?

Remember the times you wrote to and about me?

Remember the times you dropped everything to be with me?

Remember the time you asked me to be the luckiest woman on the E-arth?

Remember the time you let me plan a big wedding, even though you didn’t want one?

Remember the time you moved across the country to start a new life with me?

Remember the times you worked an awful job to help me pay for our wedding?

Remember the time our family cheered when we got married?

Remember the time you took me to the doctor after I split my lip?

Remember the time your best friend visited my grandma?

Remember the time you took me to Springfield?

Remember the time when you let me use our tax return to pay off the credit card?

Remember the time you stayed in that apartment so we could buy our dream home?

Remember the times you made me feel Loved and secure?

Remember the times you supported my biological family?

Remember the time I almost killed us in the car?

Remember the time you encouraged me to take her in?

Remember the times you helped me talk about my abuse?

Remember the time when you didn’t judge me for my mistakes?

Remember the time you gave me a chance to Love you?

Remember the time I crumbled in your arms at the loss of my grandma?

Remember the times you supported me even though we were planning to separate?

Remember the times you held me when I cried?

Remember the times you arranged for dinner when I was too sad or sick?

Remember the time you stood up and protested with me?

Remember the time you took me to 417 to leave a piece of grammy there?

Remember the times you helped me not puke?

Remember the times I did and you were still there?

Remember the time we first talked about practicing?

Remember the time you forgot how amazing you were, and I told you I would write you a “short” list of reasons to remember?

 

Insomnia

Mommy loves daddy

But daddy doesn’t love mommy that way

She keeps him prisoner

Holding obligation over his head like and anvil

Any moment he could walk

At any moment that weight can crash down

Why do I force you to stay

Where I know your heart is not

Why do I feel this

When you clearly feel it for her

Who is happier, you or I

Sometimes I fear it’s only on mine

Brunch

He climbs into her car and inhales her sweet body splash. The adrenaline rush from sneaking around makes them both shake as they embrace.

“We have to leave, we can’t stay here she’s shopping nearby. Let’s go.”

The driver takes off to the motel as he pulls together the cash he carefully squirreled away without his wife’s notice. They only have a few hours together and can’t waste a second, so the typical area traffic makes them both even edgier.

“Two hours please” she says as they grab the room key. The place is what you expect, a shitty roadside motel. The kind of place built for affairs and day hookers.

The room itself is gross but they don’t care. They have been talking, dreaming, writing about this moment for over a year and won’t let anything ruin it. It’s not about the room, their spouses, or anything else other than their own passion and desire.

The hours fly by as they entwine themselves with reckless abandon. Not a care in the world as they shower off the stench of their betrayal. He texts his wife as they leave and head to the diner for their cover story.

They cuddle up in a booth, play footsie, kiss, and chat. Relive the memory of their deepest darkest secret, the one they will take to the grave. He knows her husband won’t stand for this, even if caught he’ll deny this ever happened. He must protect her and this at all costs, even if it means he loses his wife, he cares not.

No one will ever know the details, even they will have different versions of the same stolen moments. However I like to think that the reality of the story, is far more scandalous than I could ever dream up.

The Wound

First time I anticipated the cut and saw the steel of the blade before it ever pierced the skin

The second time I was not so lucky,  it entered next to the first while that one was still barely stitched together

One puncture was now two gaping holes, and neither one given any time to heal like it needed

I was undeserving of medical care and left alone to lick my gashes, given salt from time to time to remind me

Years passed in the same cycle: pick till it bleeds, rub, pain, remember your mistake, punish yourself

Over and over again until the scar still shows the thick keloiding that comes with a repeated assault

A reminder so large now that there is no way to ignore it and no way to pretend you don’t know what caused it

The size and shape make it clear to all those who glimpse it what came before, and how I healed it

The horrors that brought that reminder, the actions of mine that brought on the attack and how I felt I deserved it

I remember every moment in exquisite agony every time I pick at it, I punish myself by making it bigger, adding to the layers of scar tissue

But no more, today I have finally been given the tool needed to lop off the entire scar

It will cut deep into my skin and free me from the prison of my own obsessive need to relive the trauma

This is the chance to finally let go of the raised ugly scar and behaviour that imprisons me

It will be a painful complicated surgery without anesthesia, going possibly down to the bone

Every possible bit of scar tissue will be removed, no chance taken this time with the proper doctor in tow

Surgery will leave a permanent mark but this scar will be different, stitched together with precision and given the proper aftercare

Allowed to heal the right way, in a calm relaxing environment and with an attentive nurse to watch over my progress

I’ll trade the old complicated oozing scar that plagued me, for a deep red line across my heart

You’ll still be able to see the scar, but now you’ll see the aftercare and love that proper healing brings to a wound of this nature

I’ll be able to display this badge of courage as a reminder of the unconditional love that fixed it, rather than the evil that caused it so long ago

Glass Shards

It was like a slow motion replay

I knew the bullet was coming

I could see it in the distance and yet I did not move

I felt the words on your lips before they passed through them

I knew the answer to the question before I even asked it

and yet still I am shattered

Still this glass heart broke into tiny shards

When you think it can’t be more broken

Just when you think the light is coming

That is when you realize that the light was not the end

but merely the eye of this terrible storm

Hang on tight my dear,

this is going to be a big one.