Bad, Bad Blogger

So if I can’t be showing progress and I can’t even be witty about my experience, I have no business blogging, right?

I was able to verify that Heather is 26. She was 25 when she moved in with my husband. And she’s a nurse, so she probably makes a pretty good living which is good for him.

It’s about an hour before I leave for church and I so wish I could stop trying to find information about her. She doesn’t matter. If it weren’t her it would have been someone else. Wait, she does matter. Maybe it wouldn’t have been someone else. I’ll never know.

I just can’t get over that my husband treats me abominably, abandons me, shacks up with a girl younger than my daughter and I’m the one who feels shame and humiliation while he gets sympathy for putting up with a mentally ill wife for years.

Typical double standard. And no consideration for the fact that our life together was so horrendous that it surely didn’t help my mental state.

I don’t know what to do to make myself just stop. I don’t know why I’d take these actions which cause me further pain — I’ve had enough pain.

I want to tell her the pain she’s caused.  I want to tell his friends that their own new marriage is cursed because they helped to end my marriage. The only thing stopping me is if I do anything like that, he’ll begin to play even dirtier with me.

I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of being broke. I’m tired of blaming myself for everything.

Okay, I’ll stop. God knows this whining does not help. I’ll brush my teeth and put a little make up on and go to church and just pray to God that he makes me open to receiving comfort and that I can somehow find peace in my heart.

As a final note I want to declare that this is the week, starting tomorrow, that I will get back to some form of physical exercise.

 

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