Monthly Archives: August 2014

Becoming Comfortable With Myself

There’s a peace that’s coming over me and I think it’s because I know some money is coming. With that comes some anxiety because I’m not entirely sure what to do with it, but I know from so much research that I’ve done on line that the biggest mistake I can make is rush into something. That’s one reason I was glad to have to wait all these months for it.

Also since I have no idea of the amount, it impacts what I dream about.

Yesterday I nixed my patch idea because I don’t want to rely on the whims of teens and to be honest it just didn’t thrill me any more. That’s the good part of ruminating on that “great idea” for a few weeks — things become clear. The last twenty minutes of swimming is the most exciting as far as opening my mind to ideas. They just flow and flow, it’s almost too much!

I read all the classified job ads I could find in the last two days and again saw nothing remotely appropriate for me. So I went back to another previous idea and so far it’s sitting well in my  head. Time will tell, but I thought about it during my swim today and feel pretty fired up about it.

My mom said she liked another idea I had better, but I said, “Mom, I’ve realized I don’t want to have a store or restaurant for the simple reason that I’ll be a slave to it 7 days a week, and when I’m not there I’ll be paying people $10 to be there and they’ll end up making more than me in the beginning. Plus it’s a MUCH bigger investment. No, I prefer to consider a warehouse of goods and a really beautiful website. So that’s what I’m back to thinking about.

With any luck, I can get the money in October or November and be on my way to a new business of my own in January, that’s my hope anyway.

It’s interesting, with this bit of peace of mind I’m having lately, it’s making it easier to watch what I eat. I think this is my fourth day of almost no sugar. My only treats during the day are a few Fig Newtons. My only treat at night is a coconut popsicle. No sugar in my coffee or on my cereal, and NO CANDY AT ALL. It’s not easy, but I already feel better and my workouts have been great.

I’ve decided I am definitely taking a business course this Fall. The classes will be announced on September 8th, I’m pretty sure. I’ll take something that can help me with my potential business idea.

Oh, and I may need some encouragement to do it, but while my pool is closed from the 1st to the 21st, I think I will try out pools in other parts of town. It might be fun! One in particular is an outdoor pool and they do close it in the winter, but it should be open for lap swimming for a bit longer. I’ll check it out. Swimming outside would really be a kick.

I’ve changed so much. I like myself more. It’s time for me to start reaching out to people. I think I will re-think attending some of the StartUp Meetup groups just so I can meet local people, even if they are all half my age!

That’s okay. I don’t feel my age at all.


I’m Going to Want My Own Place

I worked at the kids center this a.m. and then met my husband downtown. He put a quarter in the meter and we walked to a park bench. I said to him, “How did I get so much taller than you?”

I thought I was about 2″ taller than him, but my god it’s closer to 4″. He looks good, though. He’s a small guy so he needs to watch his weight a bit. Smoking helps with that.

We talked about the case and he gave me some money and I thanked him. He was still a bit revved up from the deposition yesterday and puffing himself up as the Star of the Deposition. His attorney told him at the break that he might be saying too much, but no, my husband corrected him. He’s speaking just the right amount! These people need to understand!

No one can tell him anything. No one. (He’s kinda like my mom that way).

He had on new designer sunglasses, a shirt I’ve never seen and two silly looking silver bracelets. For a guy who has NO INCOME WHATSOEVER he does okay, doesn’t he? His hair is always trimmed very nicely these days. Perhaps his OW is a hair person. But it’s got kind of a Cupie Doll look to it that I don’t care for. And his thick eyebrows were trimmed. He still spends more time than I do in front of a mirror.

He looked so small. And I realized as I sat looking at him that, while I still feel an attraction to him when we talk on the phone, I didn’t feel attracted to him in person today. Sad, but a relief at the same time.

We never were physically compatible. I never would have looked at a much smaller man than me romantically if we had met in a traditional way. None of my former lovers and husbands have been shorter than me. But we met online in a chatroom and after several months he flew to meet me, and it’s been a circus ever since.

You’ve heard of the expression “small man syndrome” and I’ve sort of believed it exists but I didn’t think it applied to my husband. Now I realize that it absolutely does. His manner of dressing and speaking and behaving is all about appearing larger than life. He’s not happy that he’s so small.

I am 5’8″ (okay, a little shorter due to age) and there’s just no way for me to look petite. I was aware of his height when I bought shoes. Now I don’t have to think about that.

I hope one day that I am with a man who is bigger than me. One who will hold me and make me feel safe.

I didn’t overstay my welcome, and after about 15 minutes we walked back to my car, we hugged, and I drove away. We’re both in a fog and disbelief that this very long wait for this case, almost 18 months now, is almost over. It doesn’t seem possible.

My parents are fighting terribly and it’s both their fault, but a little more my mom’s fault. My dad’s normal amount of patience with her seems to be waning perhaps due to his illness so he’s fighting with her more than swallowing it like he usually does.

It’s so sad to admit, but my mother cannot change. She’s a really smart woman, but so unbelievably incapable of self reflection. Everything is always someone else’s fault. And I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.

And due to my rough childhood and lots of early childhood abuse from her and trauma from my dad and his temper, I look at her when she’s about to cry and I can rarely comfort her. I am sorry to admit that I actually feel a bit repulsed and then immediately I’m filled with shame for being a bad daughter. Whatever I should be feeling, however, is broken or absent.

We all walk on egg shells around mom. We always have and always will. I’ve tried many, many ways to get through to her and just when I think it’s sinking in, she proves to me she heard nothing. And wow, when she feels wronged she can be so incredibly hurtful.

My dad told me today that if he were 50 he’d be out of here and I believe him. But how unbelievably sad to be 80, on oxygen, and sometimes a walker, suffering from COPD, and you hate your wife enough to leave her.

Jesus, how’d you end up in this situation? Well, in this case I know the answer to that question. But my god it’s sad to end two lifetimes this way.

And my mom wants to be here for him but she isn’t a comfort to him. I think I see fear on the faces of both my parents as they realize how close they are to, well, not being here any more. And they are only 20 and 22 years older than I am.

I swear I’d rather live alone with nine cats and fourteen dogs than live with a spouse I hate.

Tonight at dinner they both got a bit animated talking about a sensitive subject. My mom got loud and she swore and I found myself almost ready to panic. Her intensity and volume was too much for me. I almost said, “Mom, please. I’m too nervous.” But thankfully she stopped. It made my heart pound.

I’ve had a bit of PTSD of late when my mother and dad are fighting. It takes me way, way back to a time when their arguments caused me great fear. I tremble and hide and don’t want to come out.

I’m going to want my own place. No doubt about it.

The Wife Who Isn’t A Wife

I actually put Splenda in my coffee this morning. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve been putting three heaping teaspoons of sugar in my coffee of late. That’s no way to start the day. I don’t like artificial sweeteners, but for now, they’ll do.

I ate “well” yesterday and better today. I’m hoping tomorrow will be even better.

The deposition was today and my husband was grilled for two hours. He called me later to fill me in. It went very well.

But before that, he texted me, “I might need a pep talk.” So I gave him a pep talk. And I let him talk about all the stuff he talks about: a documentary series I should watch called The Pyramid Code, and how he got into an argument with an academic on Sunday when he was having coffee with his friend about the purpose of the pyramids. And the mysticism of Free Masonry. Nothing changes for him. He still takes on the world. But I’m amazed he doesn’t miss me. Why doesn’t he miss me?

That’s what my pain boils down to. My ego can’t take that this man doesn’t need me or want me. Well, he does need me for his trial. The idea that he may never have loved me shakes me to my core. It’s even more confusing to think that he did love me, but no longer does.

I was at my storage unit when he called to fill me in. I was there searching for things to bring home, photograph, and put on eBay because I am broke, and I promised my daughter I’d help her pay for her dog’s cancer surgery. Life is moving in slow motion right now.

He talked and talked about the deposition and what an idiot the opposing attorney was. He said you must always go into a meeting knowing how it’s going to end. He’s quite eloquent and articulate and wears a jacket and tie and cologne well. I haven’t seen him in over a month.

As we ended our conversation he asked me how I was doing for money. I told him what I was doing. He said he had money he borrowed from his friend and did I want some. I said, “If you can spare it, it would be appreciated.” So I’m going to meet him tomorrow. He’s going to give me a couple hundred dollars.

I don’t know if he got the money from his friend, or if his mom is helping him. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I wonder if he’s only now offering me some money because he feels some obligation or guilt because I, in my weak mental state, make his case much stronger.

But I need the money, and he sure does owe me. Until a couple of months ago I paid for his cell phone. Before that I gave him money a couple of times; before I realized there was another woman in the picture. Before that, I gave him everything I owned.

I long to see him, but am also dreading it. It’s silly, really, since I will probably see him all of five minutes.

While I question his ethics and know that what he did to me was horrible, I do firmly believe that he wants to make it up to me somehow by giving me half his settlement. His lawyer told me that the agreement can’t be altered without both of us agreeing to it, so I feel good about that. My husband doesn’t want me back, but he wants to redeem himself just a little bit. Not only to me, but to my family, who always thought he was a loser because they cannot relate to someone who does not work.

It took me a while to see that he truly cannot work for someone else and by the time I fully realized that I was too far gone, emotionally and financially.

I am filled with sadness and compassion and maybe pity for him because he has just run and run and run from problems. At nearly 50, it makes me so sad to think he’ll continue this path and never have a normal home life. But perhaps that’s just me projecting what I want for myself.

I pray he takes this settlement and uses it wisely to get on his feet but I do fear he may let it trickle through his fingers. All his talk of being filthy rich all the time — one can really get sucked into that. There was no middle ground, no working towards something, no being happy along the way. It was always talk of being unbelievably and instantly rich, I guess because he’s a genius. So rich that you fulfill all the wishes and demands of your children and parents. So rich that you have several homes. But he never spoke of working. Just being very, very rich.

That’s a huge difference between us. I’ve always been willing to work and I want to work now. I worked from the age of 15 to about age 47. After that I just fell apart emotionally and could not be relied upon. I’m no longer that person. I’m ready to work again.

He told me I was a “small thinker” because after a while his dreams of super wealth just wore me out.

I don’t think I’ll ever hate him even though maybe I should. But for my sake and my recovery and my future, I still hope he leaves this town. It will be painful for me, but it’s the only way. Otherwise I’ll end up being his wife but not his wife. I won’t move on. I won’t be open to a real relationship. I’ll always have one foot in this one but without any intimacy.

Yet, I still don’t want another relationship. I still think other men will pale in comparison to him. I fear that other men will bore me. Is this a side effect of being married to a narcissist? I am leaning more and more to being happy living alone, in a house that I own and control, and having a significant other, a committed partner, who lives in his own home. Plus I can’t risk losing everything again.

He’s already promised a loan to his mother and this is how it will trickle away. I’ve never seen a family like this and if I were ever involved with such a volatile family again, I would absolutely make certain that none of our finances were ever combined. Why can’t they let him get on his feet before they start asking for money?

I need to work or run my own business. I need a new focus for my life. I can do it if given the chance — at least I think I can.

I’m ashamed to be starting from the bottom at my age, but there’s nothing else to do but start where I am.

My parents have been fighting for two days. Imagine that, fighting at 78 and 80 years old. Why don’t they just stop fighting? It’s tense around here and I can’t really get away because I’m conserving the gas in my car. I don’t get in the middle and I don’t take sides, but it can get very uncomfortable here. And I see the mistakes they are both making. What a shame.

Life is too short for this, people.

No swimming for me tomorrow. I’ve been asked to go into the kid’s center in the morning. It’s not easy to swim the hour, but you know what? I love it anyway. I truly do.

Eh, Blah, Looking Forward to Meh

I made my blog private for a day. I got suddenly worried that what I write here might somehow be found. I’ve decided to talk even more cryptically about my husband’s case.

The good news is I don’t have to go to the deposition tomorrow, so that’s a relief. I can’t disclose the reason yet, but it’s a good one. I’ll look forward to hearing what questions they asked my husband.

His attorney did say that they’re basically wanting to test things out in order to begin making offers. He also thinks we may just want to take it to trial. I don’t care. I just want my husband’s ex boss to be punished the only way he’ll understand.

The next month or two will be telling, indeed.

I’ve spoken to my husband quite a bit yesterday and today. We had a lot to run by one another and were both nervous about the deposition. It just seems so wrong that we are not together, fighting this together. That still has not sunk in.

I’m just so alone. Like right now I just want to call him and talk about it. This was several intense and horrible months of our lives. I’m the only one who knows what he went through and he’s the only one who knows what I went through, but we can’t be together to share it. My heart feels broken. I’m so lonely.

I just have to remember that if he cared for me we would be together and he would not have fucked someone else. But he did, and there we are.

I’m lonely and sad, but still going forward with all that I need to do. But the bottom line is it didn’t need to end this way. It really didn’t. I doubt he’ll find anyone who likes him the way I did. Well, maybe he will. I’m probably full of shit. He needs a flashier broad. Look at me, still feeling the feels for a man who was unbelievably cruel to me. This case needs to end so he can depart my town.

I am gaining weight. No doubt about it. I’m trying desperately to not eat anything else tonight. I can’t figure out why this is suddenly so hard. I refuse to accept it. I will beat this. I fucking will.

I explained my patch idea to my daughter today and she thought it was intriguing. She’s not getting along with her boyfriend, so who knows, if the timing is right and I actually start a business, perhaps I can talk her into moving back down here. I miss her so.

I’ve done a bit more research on the idea. There are a couple of companies here in town I’m eager to speak to. These patches will be made in the USA or I will not make them at all. And locally, if possible. I think it is possible. But sold everywhere, and on my awesome website which doesn’t yet exist. I’m taking my time with name ideas, although I have a couple of decent ones.

I’m beginning to have some really great ideas and will keep them mum for now. But I still love the fact that this business can be started relatively cheaply, and run just by me at the start, and from home, if necessary. But even when I do rent a warehouse, warehouse rent isn’t too bad. And I won’t have to give up swimming or work seven days a week unless I want to. It’s perfect for me. And with any luck I’ll bring my daughter along to help.

I’ve managed to sell about $150 worth of stuff on eBay, but the money won’t be available to me for another week or two. Weird system, PayPal. But I’ll be giving it all to my daughter because her dog needs cancer surgery and she just can’t save fast enough for it. I wish I hadn’t bought all this stuff in the first place.

I hope there’s an interesting business class to take this Fall, because that would be a good use of my time and get me out of the house a couple nights a week. I’m crossing my fingers.

And still trying to organize a local Chump Lady MeetUp, but so far there are only four of us interested so we’ll see. I’ve postponed it for the last time today.

One thing I can tell you is going well, believe it or not, is swimming. It’s as though the extra calories are making swimming easier. Jeez, there’s no middle ground. I’m sad that they will be closing for maintenance for over TWO WEEKS. My god I have to find another pool for that time.

But I’m still gaining weight, because, duh, I eat too much. I worked towards it today, and plan to begin it tomorrow: GOING NO SUGAR. Just to see if it gives me the kickstart I need. A shame because I ate a small amount of sugar the whole time I was losing, until the last few months, but now I can’t seem to control it. Therefore it must go. I’m not giving up I’m telling you. I’m not!

When I talk about the case with my parents I see that blank look on their faces that tells me they do not have high hopes, and do not think I’ll see a dime. I hid so much of what was happening from them because I didn’t want them to be afraid for me, or to judge us too harshly. So when I tried to fill them in on the horror of it all, they just couldn’t really imagine it. It’s not their fault.

I believe there will be money. And it will be between $10,000 and $100,000 — so right now, only god knows.

Tomorrow is Tuesday. They say that “meh” will arrive on a Tuesday. Maybe it will be my lucky day. But if not, another Tuesday works for me too.




We’ve Been Deposed

Well, my husband called me for a good reason on Saturday. He said his lawyer called him to tell him we’ve been deposed for this coming Tuesday. Wow.

His lawyer wants to prep us on Monday. I can’t believe this case is finally gaining some momentum. I’m also sort of surprised that they want to depose me. I was not an employee.

I’m no legal expert, but I firmly believe they are deposing us to try to suss out what sort of witnesses we’d make so that they can base their offer on that.

My husband sounded really nervous and I said, “Don’t be! This is our chance to shine. We’ll be calm, poised, dignified, and make great witnesses. He is the opposite of that!”

And that’s no exaggeration. This guy’s a drunk. He’s slimy, loud, brash, a crook and a blatant misogynist. There’s no poise or dignity anywhere where he’s concerned. He would make the worst witness. By now his lawyers probably realize that.

I know I’ll be nervous too, but I plan to rise to the occasion. I told my husband, “They ruined my mother fucking life. I’m ready for this — bring it on.” He said he felt better knowing I was feeling fierce about it.

He told me he spoke to his lawyer again about our agreement, and his lawyer told him that he’s legally bound to honor the agreement and it cannot be altered unless both parties agree to alter it. So I feel better about that too.

Is it possible that my life will soon be back on track? I dare not get too excited. Even though he’s deposing us this week, the case is scheduled for October, and God knows how much they could stall it if they wanted to. You just cannot count your chickens.

But let’s face it, it’s impossible not to. The big question is HOW MUCH WILL IT BE? Enough to get my car repaired? Enough to help my daughter with her finances? Enough to start a new business and a new life?

Before I decide what to do with it I also plan to go to an accountant and get advice. I want to know how it’ll affect me tax-wise and make sure it’ll be considered part of our divorce settlement.

I’m still paying several hundred dollars on some back taxes for 2012 because I didn’t pay the fine for cashing in one of my 401ks. It’s the first time in my life I’ve owed taxes that I didn’t pay on time. I plan on going back to being an upstanding citizen.

I decided, then, to go back to my journal and read on, from January 2013 to October 2013, when we separated. It was even harder to read than the earlier London part, believe it or not.

First, we were not back here long before I left him and I was feeling strong. I stayed away from him for over two months and kept communication mostly to email and text.

But his pleas to get me back were truly relentless. I have page after page of emails and texts from him that went from abusive to cool indifference to pathetic begging. I never would have had those if I hadn’t insisted that I would not talk to him on the phone. He hated it, but he begged and begged.

Even when he wore me down and I went back, I knew it was a mistake, and, as usual for us, when I went back to him, our finances and future took yet another turn for the worse.

These people played with our lives as though we were chess pieces. They had no right to do that.

When the hotel owner began to harass us we were living in a basement “apartment” which I put in quotes because it was simply a storage room with an adjoining bath — not fit for human habitation. But it was supposed to be temporary because the owner had told us that he wanted to train someone he could trust to run things so that he’d be free to travel.

Only I guess fear began to possess him because when I returned to the hotel to live with my husband again, this man became abusive. I can’t write any more about case specifics.

I was alarmed as I read of my constant debilitating migraines, chest pains, foot pain, and general ill health. The migraines and chest pains were 100% due to stress of our situation both in London and back in the USA. I was trying to get my doctor to perform a gastric by-pass operation on me but my insurance said I wasn’t sick enough.

We wanted to leave the hotel, but didn’t have a penny to our name. He was so resentful that I refused to ask my family for money and that we were not welcome at my parent’s home. He could not fathom when I said to him that I’d never been so poor in my entire life, not even when I was an 18 year old new mother. He had taken me to new lows and there was no end in sight.

He began to leave me at the hotel five or six nights a week, and then seven. It crept up on me because the hotel is downtown and he’d go out on foot, so it always felt like he was just around the corner. And I was miserable both physically and mentally and I was so ashamed of my weight and clothes. We didn’t have a penny to spare, so I could not justify going to bars with him.

Reading the journal last night it was clear to me when he began to cheat and that was really hard to take. It started earlier than I thought previously. It started when we were still at the hotel. The person who I suspect is/was one of the other women seemed even more probable after I read the journal. I was with him on a very rare night out. We had only a few dollars to our name. We were trying to appear as though all was well. We were sitting outside because he smoked and we ended up sharing a table with an attractive woman about 30 years old. He lit her cigarette. He flirted with her, trying to impress her when he found out she was a music teacher, he talked about the masons and she seemed to find that fascinating. And then, to my horror, he offered to buy her a drink. You have to understand that we didn’t have more than $10 to our name. As I read on, there were other suspicious incidences, mysterious texts, etc. Too painful to recall now.

It got to a point where he would not even pretend that being gone seven nights a week was odd, or wrong. It got to a point where I was literally begging him to spend one night a week with me and he looked at me and said he couldn’t because I made him too miserable. It was really, really difficult to read how he flatly refused to spend any time with me. He had given up. He was courting or fucking someone else. I filled him with disgust. And he lied and lied and lied.

I reminded him of all his failures. And he not only had stress from me, but from his mother, kids, and dad. He just retreated. He often talked about giving his mom and me some of the settlement money and simply disappearing.

But over and over and over I kept thinking, my god, just weeks ago he was crying and begging for me to return to him. I was his “life” his “wife” his “everything.” Now, none of that mattered. I was shit.

I was also really struck by his incomprehension of money and how to handle it. And also by the fact that hid money from me, but I never hid it from him. I can’t believe I was with someone like that.

I read all the way through to the night I took the overdose and then shut my computer down. The rest is fresh enough for me.

Ironically there would not be a case at all if I hadn’t gone back to him. Things were dreadful and this man, his employer, mistreated and abused him. Obviously the case has some merit, but how much is anyone’s guess. That’s why I feel that we must be so good at this deposition that they know that under no circumstances will they want to bring the case to trial. We would appear as two calm, clean cut people whose lives were played with and the hotel owner is still an abrasive and abusive drunk.

I felt depressed last night after I read all that. It was actually more bleak and dire than I remembered. To see me now, going to swim six days a week, about 70 pounds lighter, the difference is truly night and day. I’m sure when they see me on Tuesday they will hardly recognize me.

I spent a couple of hours making a timeline of important events from that time and emailed it to my husband. I told him to read it and call me today because I want to go over some things with him before he sees his lawyer tomorrow. I read an article in the Guardian not that long ago about a young college student who was raped when she went for a massage and she didn’t report it. Then she found out he had been arrested for doing it to someone else, so she gathered her courage and came forward and told the authorities it had happened to her too.

She was brave and strong and for a year waited for it to go to trial. When it was her turn to get on the witness stand, she was calm and cool. I forget the circumstances, but I think there was a hung jury and she had to wait another year to get back on the stand for him to be re-tried. The first time, the jury could not see her pain because she was calm and collected and matter of fact, but the second time she just let it come out, and he was found guilty. My point is the jury responded to her differently when she appeared as an innocent victim put through a horrifying experience, than if she just spoke about it with no emotion.

I’m not saying we should act or lie, but we should be careful to let it be clear that by this man playing with our lives, our lives were ruined and that’s the absolute truth.

Even though reading about that dreadful time made me sad, it made me glad that we are apart. I suppose in my own way I should be thankful that it happened, because it allowed me to get out of an abusive relationship with a little bit of money (hopefully).

This case makes me feel dirty and I can’t wait for it to be over. If, when it’s over, my husband’s attorney thinks I have a case, I’ll let him proceed with it even though I feel shameful about it. Yes, it’s legitimate, but many people would just count their losses and walk away. I just don’t come from a sue-happy family. My husband does. But I am angry at this man and I want vengeance.

I want to put all of this behind me and get on with my life. As you have read, I have so many ideas and I am eager to put one of them into motion. I want to begin to earn an income and feel pride in myself again. A year from now I’d like to have a young business that is making money and be dating a man who respects me. I want my husband to become a distant memory. I want to be living in my own apartment or home. I want to be helping my parents financially.

Is this the light at the end of a very, very long tunnel? Perhaps.




The 57 Club

I thought I’d take a few moments to remind myself what my therapist and I discussed yesterday so that I might actually attempt what we spoke of. I mean, that is the point of therapy, right, to change and to grow?

I asked her about my addiction to my narcissist husband and if there was anything more I could do to stop feeling a yearning for a man who is so wrong for me on every level. She said time takes care of that. That I’ve come a long way since I met her back in January.

I told her I was dismayed at how I’ve been unable to make a friend. She suggested a continuing education class this Fall and I think that’s a great idea. Anything to introduce myself to a wider age range of people. I’m thinking perhaps French, or a business class. She acknowledged that I am lonely. And I am.

I told her my nighttime eating habits are ruining my health progress. She suggested altering my nighttime routine. If I eat mindlessly when I begin to watch TV at 9 or 10 at night, then ask myself if watching tv is how I want to spend my time. If there’s nothing good on (Doctor Who tonight!) then why not read or do an art project?

Also, to have that after dinner snack planned ahead of time so that I don’t just keep eating. And other nightly routines I enjoy, like washing my face and applying night cream.

But last night I sat in front of the TV from 9 pm on and picked at the calloused skin on my fingers and feet to the point where I can barely walk today. I’m so ashamed. I hate my nervousness.

On the Chump Lady website yesterday it was clear that many, many of us chump women are 50+ and I find that so alarmingly sad. Most of these women have been married far, far longer than my mere eight years with my cheater — some have been married 35+ years and never been with another man! Surprisingly there were many of us who are 57!

What makes a man after 35 years just abandon his spouse? Is it our entitled culture? Viagra? Prevalence of pornography? Is this worse than usual or has it been this way for a long time? The male midlife crisis and abandonment of his wife and family is truly tragic, in my view. Why can’t the man fathom the destruction he’s about to cause: a lifetime of assets split in half, a lifetime of sharing kids and grandkids at holidays, and for what? A new vagina? How shallow and shortsighted can a person be? Why can’t he remember why he loved her in the first place? Why?

I’m not male bashing. I’m aware that men and women cheat equally. I just suspect that more men than women do it between the ages of 45-60.

But the thing that got me most yesterday as I read the older women’s stories is that they / we loved our husbands and didn’t want anybody else. We liked their bodies, their smell, the way they made love, we didn’t expect them to be perfect, and it’s almost impossible to feel we’ll ever want another man. Many of the older women say they won’t even try. Most of them said they are sad about that because they enjoy sex.

I have to leave it open.

I first want to become more balanced and independent. I first want to begin a business. I first want to find ways to help support my mother, father, and daughter. After that I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s out there, but I will never use a dating website, so I hope I meet this guy out in the real world.

Many of the cheaters mentioned on Chump Lady are serial cheaters, carrying on affairs for 2 or more years, sometimes as much as 20 years! I suppose I should count myself lucky that my husband wasn’t a serial cheater. We were together far too much for that. But when you read that a 60 year old, who has never fucked another man in her entire life has to go and get tested for STDs, well, shame on the asshole who did that to her. There’s just no excuse. I hope there’s a special place in hell, I really do.

I’ve been trying to start a Chump Lady support group on my local MeetUp and have about four people interested. I was hoping to get more, but maybe that will come with time. I’m going to write to the others today to ask if they want to meet even though our group is small.

I’m flat broke and don’t want to let my parents know I was so dumb with my finances this month. I’m staying close to home so that I don’t run out of gasoline. I’m waiting for the funds for two things I sold on eBay to become available to me, but it looks like it won’t be before Sept. 2nd. My fear of periodically looking at my bank balance is detrimental! I fucking hate this.

I’ve got another ten things listed, so perhaps I’ll make a little more dosh and I’ll try harder next month to make my money last.

I’ve given thought to my patch company and still feel it has promise. I’ve done some research and there’s really no serious competition. There are large patch companies out there, but they are not cutting edge or very cool and they don’t market themselves well.

Crossing my fingers, and will continue to explore this idea.


Where I Describe My Latest Business Idea

I knew I should not have done it, but yesterday my husband said he wanted to call me. I could tell it was for no real reason, and for that I should have been strong and said, no, what is it? We can talk via messaging and email. But no, I wanted to see what was going on in his mind.

Sure enough there was no point to his call. I think he’s a bit at loose ends because his kids and mother are on vacation and he can’t talk to them as much as he usually does. He basically called me because it is an old habit and he was bored — not because he cares for me.

When I realized the conversation had gone on long enough I said, “Well, I’d better get my suit on and get to the pool.” He said, “Mmmm, wish I could see that.” And I felt like vomiting. What the hell? I am pretty certain he thinks he could just wiggle his little finger and I’d be back in the sack with him. If there is another woman at present, I imagine she lives in Portland so he doesn’t get his daily fix. The idea that he thinks I’d be flattered that he flirts with me is absurd.

I have to remind myself that this man was more cruel to me than any other human being in all my 57 years of life on this earth. Why would I give my time and emotions to a person like that?

On another note, things are very, very hard here at my parent’s house. My mom has had diarrhea for over a month every single time she eats. She went to the doctor finally yesterday who ran some blood tests and asked her if she was under stress. She responded that she was very much under stress because her husband has COPD and she still works as much as possible.

And while that is true it makes me mad that she and her doctor just say, “Well, that’s it then. You’re stressed because of all these external reasons, but not because YOU MAKE YOURSELF STRESSED.”

And she very much makes herself stressed. It’s so annoying. And she virtually spends NO time examining herself and working on herself. It’s always got to be someone else’s fault.

And my dad’s COPD is worsening. He was on a dose of antibiotics and it appears that he’ll have to repeat that course because he seems to be drowning in mucus. My god I feel so helpless. He went to bed last night and couldn’t cough any of it up so got up. I made him some tea to see if it would help. I suspect he was awake half the night. His life is a nightmare. I would not wish this illness on my worst enemy.

I swam five days last week, and every day so far this week, so that’s good. But I am still eating terribly at night. While I’m swimming I’m trying to examine why controlling my eating at night is so impossible. I can’t come up with a reason yet and I’m feeling so dismayed because I can tell some of my clothes are feeling a bit tight. That won’t do.

If I can’t even maintain my weight loss, how can I ever expect to lose the rest of it? I can’t! But I have not given up hope. I just need to figure it out. And keep swimming. Although the pool will be closed from September 1st through 21st, which alarmed me. I will have to do something else during that time.

I’ve been buying too much at the charity shops and so I’ve put some things on eBay. Only sold one thing so far, but am hoping to sell more because I promised my daughter I’d give her some money for her dog’s cancer surgery next month. Today after swimming I am going to go to my storage unit and dig out more things to post on eBay. I have to try!

As much as I feel I should be doing something right now to prepare myself for having a future business, I’ve decided it’s okay to not count my chickens before they hatch. There’s always a chance that there will be no settlement, or a small one, too small to start a business with. I have many ideas, but they all depend on knowing how much money I’ll end up with.

I came up with a great idea yesterday, one that’s been percolating for a long time. I love the idea of scout badges, like the kinds I earned as a kid in Girl Scouts. I also bought some very cool patches a couple of years ago at a Comic Con in London which were “Steampunk” based. Steampunk is “a sub-genre of science fiction that typically features steam-powered machinery, especially in a setting inspired by industrialized Western civilization during the 19th century.”

Anyway, since I run a website for kids I’ve often thought about what I could sell to kids and I came up with this idea of designing patches for tweens and teens that they will feel compelled to collect and put them on their denim jackets, backpacks, etc.

Back when my daughter was young everybody had those plastic necklaces and bought dozens if not hundreds of dumb plastic charms to clip on them. Remember those? They sell for a lot on eBay these days! I had been trying to think of what I could sell that would make kids buy and then buy again and again.

So the patches could be based on crushes, or technology, or interests and hobbies. Your patches tell the world something about you.

I’ve also learned from reading about this sort of business that it’s best to design the work and hire a company to manufacture it, since technology changes, and it’s a huge investment. So, I’d just need to design them and order them and then find places to sell them.

I imagine it’s hard to know if you’ll be the next Pet Rock or not, but I think it would be fun, and not an enormous investment. I hope no one reading this blog will take my idea and run off with it! But I would like to know what others think of it. Oh, and for a long time I wondered about how I’d attach the patches because sewing them on is so hard, but there are new clothing “glues” that will work beautifully for this purpose.

Here are some examples of steampunk patches, but I would be broader than this so as to appeal to more kids. Patches for readers, for Harry Potter lovers, for various sports activities, Apple products, texting, video games, food, the sky is the limit, really.

That’s just me, having another of dozens of ideas to pursue. We shall see.