bittersweet

March 18th, 2008, 11 and a half months after I found out that I was married to a cheating bastard, my divorce was final.Mark did physically walk out on us a few weeks after I found out he was cheating. When he left, he took all of our money, drained our accounts and hadn't paid the rent or anything else in months. SO, that year was so turbulent. On top of having to move twice, the ups and downs of that year were like a roller coaster. I had to have shoulder surgery and my right arm was useless and very painful for several months,and the emotional trauma, well that was the worst. Mark never had to grieve the way that the kids and I did and well, still are three years later. Mark was over me, before I even knew what hit and he will never3r know the pain that he caused me and the kids. Throughout that year, Mark would not pay support, skip out on visitation, and be an all around jerk over just about anything and everything, as if cheating on me and abandoning our family were not enough. He spent most of his time in Mississippi with his girlfriend (not seeing the kids much), while the kids and I were here, dealing with all of our pain.Then a few months before the divorce was final, Mark had his girlfriend Melanie move in with him and his parents. They lived there until a few days after the divorce was finalized and then he left the kids,again to be with her.
We were left to grieve and hurt, we were deserted. I will never forget the looks on my children's faces when the said goodbye to their father-and yet I don't even think that he noticed.
A divorce, is a death. Maybe not physical, but in every other way, a death. I lost my husband, and part of my identity. I lost my financial security, my health insurance, my safe place, the arms that held me, I lost a part of my heart. My kids did too,they lost their daddy. They also lost a part of me. During that first year, I was a mess. I lost 70 pounds (which is good), I started drinking, and I became emotionally detached from everyone including my kids. I couldn't bare their pain, and mine anymore, so I pretended that it wasn't there. I stopped eating and started dating (way too early), started drinking, and on a positive note, I started school.
I did not know who I was anymore. The person I used to be was dead, she walked out with my husband, and died with my marriage. My world had ended and I thought that I would never recover. I though wrong. We certainly have had it rough, but over time I began to realize that walking out on me was the best thing that my cehating sob exhusband ever could have done for us. It was all very bittersweet.

Sucker punched

Some people are born knowing what they want, and from birth they seem to know what to do to get it. These people are on the honor role in kindergarten, and have their colleges picked out by the time they hit puberty. Then, there are others who have about as much direction as a chicken with its head cut off. They run around as if their heads are completely up their rear ends, bumping into things, knocking things over and making a royal mess out of life. These poor souls may be well into adulthood before they pull their heads out of their rear ends. I, fall into the latter group. I am 31 years old and now, now I am beginning to figure it out. Finally, my head is out of my rear and I am not making a mess out of life. I am however, having to clean up the messes I have made in the past. This part, the post head up rear end- getting my life together has been even harder than it was for me when I was making a mess out of things. A lot of that is because it is not just me, I have three kids who depend on me now to know what to do and take care of them. It is because of my kids, that I finally started to get my life together.
April 2, 2007
It felt like I had been sucker punched in the face, and stomach, and stabbed in the heart all at the same time. It hurt so bad that I fell to my knees clutching my arms around my stomach as if I had really been punched. The only other time I had felt pain like this was when I learned of my stepfathers’ death. This was a death indeed, but not of a physical person, but of a marriage, and of a part of me. On this day, I learned of my husband’s adultery. I had found a suspicious email address one day a few weeks prior, as I was checking my hotmail, but had ignored it until this day. Sometimes when you check your email it will have the address of the last user still in the sign in area, and it said markswoman@hotmail.com. This didn’t make sense to me. I was Marks woman, I was his wife, but this was not my e-mail address. My heart sunk, but then I convinced myself that it was nothing. I told myself that it must be a secret e-mail address he had so that he could plan a surprise for me, anything but what I really knew it meant. The suspicion got the best of me and I called him at work. I told him what I found and he told me I was crazy. Mark said that I must have looked at it wrong, and then asked if I had taken my meds. I reminded him that I was on anti-depressants, not anti psychotics. He denied vehemently that he knew anything about the address, so I let it go. I let it go as far as he knew anyway. I did not want to believe, but I knew that something was going on. Not wanting to believe it, I tried to put it out of my mind. I did put it out of my mind until that fateful day, April 2nd 2007. Mark had been behaving toward me as if he hated me. This had been off and on for several months but the past few weeks had been especially bad. My birthday was just a few weeks prior and he was supposed to buy me a piano. I wanted a piano terribly for a long time and Mark had been boasting to our friends and family about getting me one, but I never got it. The day we went out for my birthday, I got all dressed up. I did my hair and make-up, put on a sexy blouse, and mini skirt, and heels. I got a babysitter, and planned what was supposed to be a romantic night out with my husband on my birthday. We went to a local pizza place and Marks was an ass the whole time about everything, from how much money we were spending on dinner, to the wait service. Then we went to see a movie. As we were walking into the theatre, Mark had been walking several steps ahead of me, and I thought he was racing to get the door for me. He was not. I walked in and he let the door hit me. A few weeks later on April 2nd, Marks church softball teams had practice. Mark had always insisted that the kids and I go with him to his practices and games, even when we didn’t want to, so we went along. At the end of that practice, Mark and I got into an argument. I was grouchy because I was cold, and the kids were tired and he was piddling around with his buddies. I wanted him to get his things so we could leave. Mark got in my face and screamed at me as if he hated my guts. Mark had been really bad about that for several months, and it had gotten progressively worse. This day, was particularly bad. This man, my husband was not treating me as if he loved and cherished me. He was treating me as if he despised me. I told him that he was not treating me like a man who loves his wife and had not been in a while. We were in the car on the way home and I brought up the e-mail address and asked him point blank if he were cheating. He looked at me with a shocked look and said “No!” Again, I said “are you cheating on me?”Again, he said “NO!” He would not look me in the eye, so I asked him again, and finally he said “yes”. I had never experienced such pain, such emotion, such utter despair, all at once. I grabbed my stomach because it felt like I had been punched. We got home and I fell to the ground in a ball like I had just been beaten. Then I got mad and got up and demanded he tell me who she was and that he leave her.
He didn't leave her, 11 months later, just days after our divorce was final, he married the skank.