Such a range of emotions today, mostly low ones. I paid the cell phone bill as usual and it was higher than usual. $142. I called the phone company to find out why it was higher and it was due to some international calls my husband made to his daughters in the UK. The bill was about $20 more than usual.
It dawned on me as I perused the telephone bill that here I can see all the calls my husband makes and receives on his fucking cell phone. After seven months of being separated I only looked today.
I tried to do the reverse look up on several of the numbers but wasn’t coming up with individuals, just businesses. Some gun shops. Costco. But most of the numbers are private and companies want money to show me their names, and I’m not paying.
So I began to feel sick because naturally there are hundreds of texts and phone calls on this invoice and on the other invoices. I was running late to go swimming and I considered not going, but I forced myself to step away from the computer and go swim.
At first I didn’t think I could get through my usual set of laps, but somehow I just kept swimming. Many times I felt like just getting out and coming home and looking up numbers again. I was both afraid of what I might find and certain of what I would find.
I’ve been living in a dream land, thinking the best of him under the circumstances.
Just now I randomly picked a local telephone number that he called and they called him, and they text back and forth. I blocked my telephone number (I hope) and I dialed.
A young girls voice said, “This is Heather. Leave me a message.” And I hung up.
The truth of what this man has done to me is hitting home again. And she sounded like she was in her 20s.
A man on Chump Lady was commenting that men trade up for a younger model and it sounded so wrong, so cruel, so inconceivable to me. Not all men can be that way, surely!
Yet my husband used up all of my income. Threw me out of the home that was filled with my possessions, fucked at least one person. Come on, who am I kidding. Do I actually think he only fucked one person? No. He’s probably fucked several. I guess his lifelong fear of AIDS has finally relaxed.
And I am the chump who has been paying his phone bill. I am the chump who doesn’t get mad at him because I’m desperate for half his settlement, if there is a settlement.
And he’s out fucking Heathers.
I feel so sick.
I feel so terribly old.
I feel so worthless.
Her voice is young and sort of California girl-ish. Someone he met in a bar no doubt. A friend of one of his many young friends. A university student.
So I hung up from that call and sent him an email that I want to keep our communication to just text and email whenever possible. I wanted to limit our phone time. (He had called me earlier).
I don’t want to have warm sweet chats with him. I don’t want him to make me laugh. I just want him to go fuck off. I want him to leave the area. But I’ll bet you he won’t. As of today, I hate him.
I’m going to be 57 next month. I have nothing. I am forced to live with my parents. I have owned homes, cars, had savings, 401k. I was a member of society. I paid my bills. I had no debt.Thanks to my affiliation with him, I have nothing except my dignity, and barely that.
I look in the mirror and I see an aging woman. Not sure who would ever find this face attractive, let alone the body that I’ve put through hell by being fat for a long time. After reading Chump Lady I feel more convinced than ever that there is no one out there for me, unless he’s 70. No 55 year old man will think I’m a catch. They are all looking at 35 year olds.
There are no jobs that will hire me. No men who want me as a partner.
There is only one option that I can think of and that is working as hard as I possibly can. I just don’t know what that will be. A job? Not likely. No one even responds to my resume. My own business? Perhaps. But that mostly depends on how much money my husband gets in his settlement, and if he will give me half as he has promised.
I am going to have to take an ativan now. I feel a sudden deep depression coming on. I had somehow convinced myself that my husband just has a few friends and isn’t doing much. I am that naive. I really am an idiot.
Feeling the shame of being such a fool is quite painful. I’m humiliated by my stupidity.
I shouldn’t be getting slapped in the face by reality seven months out. I should have had most of that severe pain already. I don’t feel I can take much more. It’s simply too painful.
My immediate reaction was to call him and say, “Who the fuck is Heather?” But I decided I should not give him more ammunition to call me crazy. We’ve been separated for seven months. He can fuck Heather or whomever he wants to.
Now that I’ve pulled this veil from my eyes I only want him to leave the area and I will pray that he does. Why did I have to remind myself of how he has betrayed and discarded me? Why should I do him the favor of being kind and respectful when we speak, other than for my own sake? He isn’t deserving of kindness or respect.
Yet somehow this narcissistic man probably feels that I let him down.
Can you imagine?
And I think my health benefits have maxed out. I may have to stop seeing my therapist. I suddenly feel so overwhelmed.
But this is what I am going to do. I am going to take the ativan and then I am going to send an email to my brother. I want him to brainstorm with me about potential businesses to start up. He has always been at the cutting edge. I’m sure he’s been thinking about things.
If I can’t get hired. I’ll need to start my own business. Perhaps my brother can help me run it. He’s in L.A. but that’s okay. These days you don’t have to be in the same building to run a business. I have to keep hope.
This just can’t be the end for me. It just can’t.
Please God. Don’t let this be how it ends for me.
I deserve more.
I never hurt anyone. I never used up their resources.