Good Enough

As any of you that have read this blog since the beginning (THANK YOU!) know, my divorce was rough.

You know the marriage was rougher.

Ward and June Cleaver we weren’t, that’s for damn sure.

Who cleans house in high heels and pearls??

Who cleans house in high heels and pearls??

I wasn’t spectacular to him. I’ll take responsibility for my share of blame in the collapse of our marriage. To be sure, he wasn’t spectacular to me. The only honest thing he did before he left with that other woman (I’m working hard at reining in my Bitter Bitch) was to admit that he had spent 16 years emotionally and mentally abusing me.

Yes, he admitted it. Shocking, no?

And, here we are, over two years since the separation and almost two years from the divorce and I’m still dealing with that crap.

hand tiedHow frustrating is that? I know that I can’t expect to be over it immediately. I know that I will feel the effects for years. But I have made so much progress in coming back to life that it is so defeating sometimes to know that I am still trying to untie myself from his definition of who I was.

It is so very hard to recover your self-esteem, your sense of self, when you spent 16 years with the person that you pledged to love and who pledged to love you, trying to do the best you could and it was never enough.

You were never smart enough.

You were never skinny enough.

You were never pretty enough.not good enough

You were never sexy enough.

You were never a good enough mother.

You were never a good enough housekeeper.

You were never…..

Nothing I ever did was good enough for him.

When the man that you have married tells you that you are subpar at every level on a daily basis, you don’t just get over that in a snap.

So, here we are, two years later, and I’ve met this guy. He’s pretty terrific. OK, he’s more than pretty terrific, but we’re not going to go into massive details. Let’s just say that he’s very sexy, very smart, extremely witty, a talented storyteller and so much more *nudge, nudge, wink, wink*.

He’ll tell me that I’m beautiful and sexy and smart. He does so with regularity and ease. You can tell that he means it, that he’s not lying to just get into my pants. I can tell he means it. Truly means these things that he says.

And I want to believe him. I do. I want to see what he sees. I want to feel that I’m beautiful, sexy and smart.

Sometimes, when we talk or when I’m with him, I feel it. I feel like I’m all of those things and more. I feel like Superwoman having a man as great as him think those things about me.

But, when our conversation is done, or I go home, or even sometimes when we are chatting, I wonder what it is that he sees.

I know he can’t be seeing the same woman I see. That woman isn’t smart, nor sexy, nor beautiful. She doesn’t have anything to offer to a great man like him. Why does he still talk to me?

For 16 years I was told that I wasn’t beautiful, sexy or smart. For 16 years I was told that I wasn’t enough. So, how can I be enough for this man who has everything in the world to offer a woman?

And therein, my friends, lies the issue.

I have to stop wondering what I should do to “be enough” for a man in my life and just be me. Be myself in all things.

Good enoughI have to stop trying to be anything for anyone and just be the person that I am.

I have to just be me.

I have to be that woman whose eyebrows are never plucked quite right, whose roots constantly need touching up, whose house is never clean enough, who feeds too many stray cats because she’s a sucker for them. I have to be that dorky lady who laughs too loudly at lousy puns, who thinks science jokes, Doctor Who and Cosmos are pretty awesome. I have to embrace my almost bottomless pit of trivia about nothing that anyone in the world cares about. I have to appreciate my love of all things J.D. Robb, Patricia Briggs, Laurell K. Hamilton, and J.K. Rowling. I have to be political and care about what is going on in the world. I have to be all of those things.

Because all of those things make up the person I want to be.

If somewhere along the way I happen to be lucky enough to find someone who is willing to accept me with all of my quirks and my dorkiness and my lame jokes and my obscure passions, and also finds me sexy and beautiful and smart, then that will make me a pretty lucky lady.

It doesn’t mean that I will not ever have periods of self-doubt. Bouncing back from a bad relationship isn’t easy and it takes time.

But I have to stop wondering what he sees in me, why he likes to spend time with me, what the attraction is. Instead of questioning it, I need to just accept it.

It doesn’t matter why. It doesn’t matter what.

All that matters is: He does.

That’s good enough for me.


It’s a Vagina, Mr. Speaker.

Now, I’m sure we’ve all heard about Michigan State Representative Lisa Brown (D) being silenced for saying the word “vagina” on the House floor when debating a health bill that sought to put the life of a 20 week old fetus above the life of the mother.  (The story and video can be found here and further video of other women fighting this bill can be found here)

She was removed from the House floor and barred from participating in any further debate on this bill because the word she used was deemed “offensive” and one that the Speaker “would not use in mixed company.”

What word do you use, sir?

Pussy?  Snatch? Bearded clam?  Cooter?  Beaver? Cunt? The Promised Land?  Puntang? Roast Beef Curtains?  Lunchmeat? Meat wallet?  Down there? Vajayjay? Twat? Vadge? Verticle Smile? Whispering Eye?

Quivering mound of love pudding?

What other word would the Speaker have chosen for discussing a medical bill about medical issues to do with a woman?

I’m puzzled.

See, I think that the Speaker doesn’t think about vaginas in a physcial sense.  He certainly never talks about them – unless he’s talking about legislating them.

It seems that the Speaker and his ultra Conservative right-wing friends wish to legislate women’s vaginas, but not mention them.  Like they are something nasty and naughty.

The medical term for vagina is “vagina.”

Imagine that.

And, Mr. Speaker, you should take note that a bunch of your constituents have them.  And we use them.

Sometimes we use them all by ourselves.  Something that is sometimes more satisfying than using them with our partners.

I mean, it’s like reading a book.  You don’t always want to read the book aloud to be shared by all and sundry.

It’s kind of funny, too, Mr. Speaker, that those of us with vaginas have brains.  And we have opinions.  It may be a news flash to you that we use our brains to form opinions and then we use those opinions to guide us at the polls.

When you ban a woman from speaking out about a health bill that will clearly impact her, and other women’s, health for using a medical term describing what you are trying to legislate, other vaginas women may get upset and not vote you back into office.

Another point, Mr. Speaker, that I would like to make.  Why in the world is a very partisan group like Right to Life helping you write legislation?  This point was brought up on the floor by Rep. Dian Slavens (D).  Right to Life is an ultra-right wing conservative pro-life group that does not have the best interests of vaginas women in mind when constructing legislation.  They care only for the fetuses at the detriment to the vagina’s women’s health.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not a proponent of abortion.  I’m a proponent of women being able to make the best health care choices for them, without any kind of legislation barring them from any choice that they may want to make.

If this includes an abortion due to circumstances like incest or rape, or because carrying the baby will create a major health problem for the mother, then they should have a safe option for getting that procedure done.

To bar a woman from participating in any kind of debate about the health care choices of their vaginas because they  use the medical term “vagina,” is ridiculous.

It’s be like telling the Viagra people that they couldn’t say “erection” in their marketing campaign.

I find it ludicrous that you don’t want to hear the word “vagina” because it is so offensive to you, yet you insist upon trying to legislate it to the nth degree.

If you cannot bring yourself to say the word “vagina” in mixed company, then maybe you should keep out of every vagina in your State until you’re invited to occupy it.

No vaginas were harmed in the making of this post.  All slang used in this post can be found here.


Bitterness – I has it

Yes, folks, she’s back!  Without further ado, here she is, that woman you love to hate (but secretly sympathize with)….


Well, hasn’t it been awhile since I’ve seen all of your disgustingly happy faces?  The whiny wife here doesn’t let me out of the box that often anymore, but I’m here in all of my blazing glory today.

Oh, and I see we have some new faces.  Whatever.  I guess I should say hello and all that,  but I’m too old for niceties and manners.  Sit where ever the fuck you want and shut the hell up.  It’s my turn and I’m going to take full advantage of it.

Yes, the forgotten wife here is still bitter.  Oh, she bottles it up and pretends like she’s not, but there is a lot of lingering bitterness about the way that that absolute douchebag asshole treated her and the kids last year.

Oh, I know – she writes about having sex (on the phone?  In my day it was hard to do…seeing as how the phone was attached to the wall!), and about all of the great things she’s going to do this summer while the kids are gone. And that “poetry” she has written….seriously?  Love poems???  What the hell do we know about love?  We spent 16 years with a man who treated us like shit.  What the hell do we know about being loved for who we are?

If you really love someone, you love all of them – the rough spots and the parts that aren’t so lovable, the prickly parts and the bitchy parts.  You don’t try to change them.  That’s what he did to us.  He tried to change us and when we resisted, he withheld his love and affection.  Like we were a donkey and his love was the carrot on the stick that would lead us to where he wanted us to go.


Yeah, the forgotten whiner here is full of bitterness.  She ignores it, she doesn’t feed it, but sometimes….well, it’s not pretty.

Yesterday she listened to her youngest son trying to get ahold of his father.  The asshole called back and talked to him for about 5 minutes cause he was at an amusement park with his bitch and her spawn and he was getting ready to go on another ride.

Really?  You can’t spare a minute to talk on the phone with your son because you’re getting on another freaking roller coaster with your bitch and her spawn?  Yeah, that’s a great way to make them feel loved.

He is spending more time with that bitch’s spawn than he ever has with his own sons.  We are (me and the whiny wife), rightfully I believe, very pissed that the bitch and her spawn were at the asshole’s apartment when he arrived with the kids for Spring Break.  He couldn’t at least give them the illusion that the wouldn’t have to share him?  Seriously?  Is he that afraid of his children that he can spend NO alone time with them?

Every single visit the asshole has had with the kids since January has been with someone else.  Either at his brother’s house, his mother’s house or at his house with the bitch and her spawn.  He hasn’t spent a single iota of quality time with them alone, except in the car.  It’s ridiculous.

And then they have to hear about how much time he’s spending with the bitch and her spawn.  Granted, the kids seem to be alright with it. But we’re not.  We are so not OK with it.

Yes, whiny wife is aware that the bitterness she keeps bottled up may eat at her.  She’s working on it.  But, for now, I’m here to stay.  Until she can talk about the asshole without using the word “asshole,” I’ll be here.  There is a lot of hostility towards him.

Yeah, we’re doing fine, most days.  Most days, I don’t even make an appearance.  We are well aware of the damage that bitterness can cause in a life.  There are days that she doesn’t even think about the asshole.  Then there are others where he dominates her thoughts and she sees red.

Do you really blame her?  She has, I think, a right to hang onto that bitterness for just a little bit longer.  He really screwed up her life – turned it upside down.  Dumped her for another woman.

You know, not that long ago, she was having a conversation with a guy who is also getting a divorce.  They were comparing stories and the whiny wife said something about being hurt that the asshole had left her for another woman.  The guy said, “Well, it’s better than being left for another guy, right?”

No, we don’t think so.  If we had gotten left for a guy, then at least we know that we are physically not what they need.  I mean, how would you feel if you had been left for this:

Yes, that is an actual picture of the bitch.  Yes, I got it off of the asshole’s computer because he is just that dumb. 

He didn’t leave us for someone prettier (in our humble opinion) and he didn’t leave us for someone younger.  In fact, she’s older than me by 3 years.

You couldn’t even trade me in for 2 20’s???  Really??

And we also can’t believe how quickly he’s bringing her into his, and the children’s, life.  There is no waiting, no period of adjustment.  Just, “Here’s my girlfriend and you’ll just have to like it.”  He won’t hear any protest from the children about her or her spawn.  His response, “Get over it.”

Wow.  Your father’s love for them is overwhelming.  NOT.

No, this bitterness is not good for us.  We understand that.  But sometimes, just sometimes, it boils over.  I mean, I haven’t been around for quite a few months.  Things have been rolling along pretty well, I have to admit (grudgingly) and I haven’t had much of a reason to poke my head in.

But the kids are leaving next week for 7 weeks, 6 of those to be spent with the asshole.  So, he’s pretty much been in the forefront of our minds for the past couple of weeks.  Add in a court date in the beginning of July, and there you have it.

So, here I am.  The person that can vent all of that bitterness for her.  I’m happy to do it.  I mean, I have worked years and years to get this bitter.  Of course, the forgotten wench doesn’t understand what a great life I have.  She thinks I’m all bitterness and pain and no happiness.  She doesn’t want to become like me. 

Why not?  I’m charming and fun to be with.  I speak my mind and I know sign language: 

Oh, well, I guess I could see how that would be off-putting – if I gave a shit.

I am who I am.  I know that the forgottenwife doesn’t want to be like me and she’s working really hard on that.

That’s fine.  I’ll just hang around until I’m not needed anymore.  That’s my job.  Take the bitterness and get it out so that it doesn’t poison all of her life.  

And it’s a job I do, oh so well. 

  With that, I’m signing off.  I have some lemon tarts I need to make.  They’re yummy and you’re welcome to….wait, no you’re not.  Go make your own damn lemon tarts and leave me to mine.

I don’t even share them with the forgotten whiner. 

Hope you all have a totally screwed day…..means more work for me and my sisters.

Cause you know Social Security isn’t all that much to live off of….and my meds are expensive.

Till next time, bitches!  See ya!  Don’t let the door hitcha where the Good Lord splitcha!

And don’t come back till I ask you to!

Good Lord, am I glad she’s gone!  I can’t let her out too often becasue she makes me miserable, but sometimes I need to use her to get the bitterness out before it festers.  It really has been awhile since she’s been here, thank goodness.

I’m, obviously, still working on the bitterness thing.  But I do believe that a little bitterness is healthy, as long as I don’t feed it (which I don’t) and don’t dwell on it (which I definitely don’t).  As long as I don’t let it take over my life, I’ll be alright.

And Bitter Bitch was right.  I rarely think about the asshole these days and even less about his bitch and her spawn.  But with all of this stuff coming up, it’s coming right to the forefront.

Oh, well.  I have to remind myself that I don’t have to be cheery all the time.  It’s alright to be a little weak, to be a little bitter.  As long as it’s only for a moment or a day.

Because I know that I’m stronger than that.  I know that the Bitter Bitch will pop up less and less over time.  I’m happy she’s here (not really, but don’t tell her – she scares me a little) to help me out, but I can’t wait for the day that she’s gone for good!

Thank you for sticking with me through this really long post and the Bitter Bitch’s ravings.

Tomorrow will be better, I promise!

Do I O-ffend???

This is a sad little tale about the bitches I work with.  Well, not physically, but I do have to interact with them and, technically, they are co-workers.  These are women that are so rude, so vile, so unimaginably horrible that I can’t even fathom why they are still employed by my contractor.


Our only job is helping soldiers returning from theater get home.  That’s it. These are men and women that are gone from their families for 400 days + and the least we can do is spare them a smile and a nice attitude.

These women can’t manage that.

I had to call down there this morning (something I dread having to do at any given time) and the conversation went like this:

*ring, ring*

She picks up:  “I’m at lunch.”

Me:  “Excuse me?”

Her: “I’m at lunch, make it snappy.”

Me: “Then why did you answer your phone?”

Her: “What do you want?” (All of this is said with super attitude, like her shit just don’t stink)

Me: “The soldiers I sent down to you have changed categories due to a mix up….”

Her: “I saw the email. Why are you bothering me on my lunch?”

Me: “Enjoy your lunch….” *said with a smile*

Are you kidding me?  Are you freaking joking me?

See, this was a lose-lose situation for me.  Had I not called, she would have called my supervisor and bitched that I had sent her soldiers under false pretenses, even though the call came from on-high and I didn’t get that notice till I had already sent her 3 people.  However, because I did call (and it was her lunch – why the hell did she pick up the phone anyway?), I still got yelled at and treated like a piece of dog shit.

There have been numerous complaints about their attitude and disrespect, from coworkers and from soldiers alike.

Yet they still work here.

So, no, I haven’t bothered to complain.  However, I did document.  I’m not going to complain because, obviously, it does no good.  And when I have mentioned it before, all I get is a knowing shake of  the head and a comment like, “That’s just how they are.”


Why is that acceptable?  Why is it acceptable that people are allowed to treat other folks with such disrespect and get away with it?  I just don’t understand.  And everyone in the chain knows that these people are rude and yet they do nothing about it.

Just sad.

So, I find myself wondering, as Ducky in “Pretty in Pink” did – Do I O-ffend???

Cause I don’t think that the problem here is me.


Divorce and taxes

So, back in February, the asshole contacted me and asked me to file taxes.  See, according to the Court, we had to file a joint return this year.  Because the asshole asked for the whole return to pay for his credit card bill (the same credit card that he payed his lawyer with and took the bitch to dinner on), the Court decided that we would have to put the return in a trust held by my lawyer.  From this money, my lawyer would get any court ordered payments.

Right now, the amount paid is $1000 out of our $4000 return.

So, I told him I would file the taxes.  At least then I’d be sure to have a copy of them.  The asshole sent me all of his tax paperwork in February and I sat on it.

For two and half months.

Why?  Because he wanted to have the taxes filed so he could apply for a Pell Grant, furthering his college education while I couldn’t because my tuition money is tied up in the divorce.


I filed on 5 April.

I just sent him the tax return today.

And I sent it to him at his personal email address knowing full well that he does not have internet access at his house.

Yes, because sometimes the Bitter Bitch doesn’t just take over my blog.  Sometimes she takes over my life.

It can be emminently satisfying when she does. 🙂

OK, this shit is getting old. Seriously.

I’ve been at my current job for almost 2 months.  I love the job, I enjoy my coworkers and I like coming to work.

I don’t, however, appreciate being thrown under the bus.

Numerous times.

Over the same issues.

Let me ‘splain….

When I took this job 2 months ago, there was no training.  Period.  There was an outdated continuity book (and I mean, outdated, by like 6 years) that I read the first day I was here.  While it gave good basics, it doesn’t address the major issue:

Every single person that I am supposed to help is different.

They have different situations, different issues, different needs that are not all addressed in the continuity book.

Add to this that there was no one coming for me to train on.  At all. For the first two weeks I was at work.  And it has been spotty and sporadic the whole time I’ve been here.

About 2 weeks ago, I sent a packet up for a customer and it was wrong.  I had my coworker (who is considered the “guru” in the office) look at it before I sent it up and she cleared it.  Now, it was wrong (left out paperwork) and this occassioned a visit from someone from headquarters with this directive:

“Maybe, until you get more training, you can sent the packets through Ms. Coworker and she’ll send them up to us.  That way she can look them over before they get to us.”

I wasn’t happy with the spanking, but admitted that I had made a mistake and have been following this directive ever since.  I prepare them, they go through my coworker and she emails them up.  This is supposed to be the failsafe for the packets so that no one further up the chain is inconvenienced or irritated by my mistakes.

Today, I got a phone call from the same lady that spanked me two weeks ago.  Now, in between the spanking and today, I’ve done a few packets (more than 50) and all of them have been spot on.  This is the first one that I’ve had a call back on.  I made a typo error with the date and accepted my spanking like a big girl (I really don’t think that this deserved a spanking but, as they say, shit rolls downhill and I happened to be the recepticle) and fixed the issue.

Yes, this packet went through my coworker.

Then, Mr. W from down the way comes down and tells me that another packet I had done was kicked back because it should have been classified “hardship” and we shouldn’t have done it at all. 

Yes, this packet went through my coworker, as well.

When my supervisor asked about this particular packet, she asked if I had done it.  I said, “Yes.”  She said, “Did you send it up?”  I said, “No, I sent it to Ms. Coworker first, so she could proofread and make sure it was done right, and she sent it up.”

If I’m going to be thrown under the bus, I’m gonna made damn sure that I have company under there!

The Bitter Bitch is riding today!

That’s right! I’m back!!!

I know, two posts in one day, but I couldn’t let this slip by.  The Whiny Wife hasn’t let me play in sooooo long!

My mother-in-law (if you want to know more about her, read these posts here and here to get a sample) has never made any bones about not liking me.  She has never shown an iota of interest in me or my children.  When she would come to visit, she made sure that everyone knew that she was only there to see the asshole.

This last New Year’s Eve, she hosted the asshole’s bitch.  She knew that the asshole and I were still married, but she allowed that bitch to stay in her house so that the asshole could spend New Year’s with her.

On top of this, she came down when the asshole was moving and brought the bitch with her.  She lied, repeatedly, as did the asshole and the bitch about who the bitch was.  They all said that she was their “nanny’s nurse,” and she was there to help out. 

Lie after lie after lie.

Lie to me, talk about me, treat me like shit – that’s fine.

Lie to my children, talk about my children, treat my children like shit – now we have a problem.

I told the asshole that his mother was not to come around me at all while she was down in January. When she mentioned that she wanted to come for a visit in November/December, I told him abso-f’n-lutely NOT.  He had asked for a divorce and I didn’t have to pretend to be nice to her anymore.

The last time I saw her was in January when she was in her car in my old driveway looking panicked because she knew that I would see the bitch was there, too.

With any luck, and a lot of maneuvering on my part, that will be the last time I lay eyes on her or any of the asshole’s family.

So, for 15 years she has never bothered to call me and inquire about the kids.  In the 6 years that we have lived here, two hours from her house, she has only been to visit like 5 times.  And the first visit didn’t come till we had been here for over 3 years.  She has never, not once, invited me and the boys to come visit her at her house.

Since I moved out in January, I have gotten more texts from her than in the entire 16 years of my marriage to her son.  Little texts like, “How are the boys?” 

Now, while this may seem innocuous, I can’t help but wonder where this grandmotherly love has been for the last decade and a half. 

I normally answer her with a, “Fine,” and nothing more.

While the oldest was sick this past week, I got a couple of texts from her asking after his health.  I answered nicely and tactfully, letting her know if he is still home sick or whatnot.

But, and this is the kicker, this morning she started out asking me how the boys were and if the oldest was feeling better.  I texted back that he was back in school today (he missed Tuesday-Friday last week).   The following is the rest of our text conversation:

Her:  “Am glad he is better how are you doing”

Her:  “Maybe you and the kids can come visit this summer or i can visit you guys.”

My jaw hung open for a good 3 minutes.  What in the hell was going on here?  Why in the heck would she want me to come visit her (or vice versa)?  She never liked me, she never wanted anything to do with me, she always treated my children badly.  Why in the hell would I go, willingly, to visit her?

I wanted to answer something snarky, like, “Wait….did you get a personality change?” Or, “Who are you and what did you do with Sue?” Or, “So, the Alzheimer’s has progessed that far already, has it?”

OK, I really like the last one! LOL

But I didn’t.  I told her that she would have to talk to the asshole because he had the bulk of summer vacation.

Before she got that message, she texted me, “Are you still doing school work?”

What, we’re buddies now??? 


After I told her to talk to the asshole, she sent one text (“OK”) and then I haven’t heard back from her.

Does she think that I want a relationship with her?  I tried to have a relationship with her, one built on mutual respect and friendship. She didn’t want that.  She much preferred to talk nasty about me behind my back, level accusations against me to the asshole (and anyone else that would listen).  She was nasty to my children and treated them like afterthoughts.  She repeatedly lied to my children and facilitated the asshole’s affair.

Why in the hell would I want her to be a part of my life now?

I flat told the asshole that one of the best things about the divorce was that I would never have to talk to his mother again, and I meant it.

I meant every word.

I will not go to her house and I will not allow her nasty energy in my house. 

I will keep my conversations polite, but I will not talk to her more than I need to.  I have kept answers to a minimum and will continue to do so.

She is not worth my time, she is not worth a thought.  This is one of the last times that I will ever talk about her (although, I have to leave myself an out because I’m sure she’ll do something outrageous) because she is so beneath me.

She is part of my past.  And I’ve left her behind.

Bitter Bitch, out.