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.


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!

Happy F’in Valentine’s Day!

You know, I’ve never been a fan of this day.  It hasn’t really ever rated highly on my  list of holidays.

Especially this year.

I’m actually kind of at war with how to deal with today.  Should I be bitter because the asshole has someone to shower with gifts (with money he should be paying me for support of the kids) or should I be thrilled that I don’t have to spend one more freaking Valentine’s Day with the asshole?

One part of me is sad because I have  no one to shower me with gifts and love and companionship.  The other part of me, that Bitter Bitch part, comes back with snarky comments like, “Why would you want a man to mess up your  life and home?  You can buy yourself gifts.  You don’t need a guy to do it for you!”

And she’s right.  She really is.  So, what am I going to do this Valentine’s Day?

Honestly, I’m going to clean the blinds in my house.  I’m going to clean the grout in my kitchen.  I’m going to have a clean house when I go to bed tonight.

I’m going to make dinner for my children and shower them with love.  I’m going to hug my puppy and wish all of my friends a Happy Valentine’s Day.

What I’m  not going to do is wallow in the fact that I’m spending it alone.  I’m not Jerry Maguire.  I’m not afraid to be alone.

But I do miss having someone to share things with.  Not just the burdens and the issues, but the happiness and the funny things that I might read or hear through the day.

Recently, Washington State (my adopted home state) passed a bill approving marriage for all.  Representative Maureen Walsh stood up in the House and spoke about this bill.  She talked about how she was widowed 6 years ago and how she missed the bond that she had with her husband and that she didn’t want to deny anyone, especially her daughter, the right to share that kind of bond in marriage. (You can watch the video here – it’s worth the 4 minutes)

I understand what she’s saying.  Because I miss that kind of bond.  I mean, I haven’t had it for nigh on 10 years, even though I was married, but I miss that feeling like you are truly connected to someone and that there is someone that you can share all of your thoughts with and you can trust implicitly.

I miss it.  But I don’t need it.

If I find it again, great.  If not, well, you don’t dwell on what you don’t have.  And I, unlike some folks I could name *cough-asshole-cough* am not going to jump into a relationship just because I want that feeling.

I’m too freaking smart for that kind of mistake, unlike others I could name 🙂

When I went out this morning to start the car to warm it up for the daily trek to the kids’ schools, I found this under my windshield wiper:

I’m pretty sure my landlord left it for me.  At least, I hope so, otherwise it’s a little freaky!  Al is a dang good guy and I look forward to seeing him today because he’s going to start the work on my washer and dryer hookups! Woohoo!

I hope you all have a great Valentine’s Day and that someone cares enough to leave you a cheesy trinket that lets you know that they’re thinking about you.

And know that I’m thinking about you, too!