I can’t get well. I get sick over and over and over again, and I tried so hard to stay at work until 5pm today and I couldn’t. I fear that now that things are falling into place I will just get sick and die.
I feel that at 57 it’s foolish to think I could rise out of anything. After all, how many years do I have left to work? What can I accomplish in that time?
I’m so sorry. I know I’m supposed to be happy.
If I bend over my entire head throbs very painfully. I cough constantly. My nose drips constantly, and this has been going on for months and months and months. I try to work through it. I try to ignore it. I buy allergy meds and I buy cold meds, I do the Neti pot, but nothing helps. Several months ago I saw my doctor again and she finally wrote out a prescription for antibiotics. They didn’t help.
She did blood work and nothing showed up.
I feel like a loser. I’m frightened. I don’t want to miss work. I don’t want to feel crummy every single day.
And I got very, very upset with my soon to be ex husband yesterday.
First, keep in mind how he ruined me financially and then found a 26 year old to fuck and then dumped me. Okay.
He’s having trouble with his citizenship paperwork. He’s been calling me and texting me and emailing me so I busted my butt trying to help him find one single piece of paper from 2012 showing he was even here in the States. I finally found ONE thing, he was on the loan I took out on my house. Of course he never helped me pay back the loan, I paid it off with plenty of interest, but it does show that hey, he was here in the USA.
So the other day I go to the courthouse and get some instruction on what should be a simple divorce with nothing to fight over. I sent him a text explaining my plan and tell him that I hope to be moving out soon and I will need to take a walk through of “our” apartment so that I can see what is still there.
Not long after he kicked me out, he stopped letting me come inside. I knew it was because she had moved in — my pillow was still warm. So I brought dozens of plastic bins over and said, “Pack my stuff up.” And he did. And I brought more bins and more bins, but I was not able to open each bin up and do any kind of an inventory of what he was packing. I always said, “You can’t expect me to know what’s there when I haven’t been in there for months.”
18 months now.
I told him which of MY furniture he could keep if he wanted it, and told him what I’d be picking up. Then I said I wanted the TV.
He said, no. He wants the TV.
Then we screamed over one another for about a minute and I hung up because he started to insult me. He called me back, but I didn’t answer.
After I calmed down I wrote this to him:
You have always called me materialistic, but your greed knows no bounds. I don’t expect you to ever understand — you’re a narcissist and narcissists are so entitled they can’t put themselves in other people’s shoes. I left you with a house filled with food, spices, and a full refrigerator. Cleaning supplies, brooms, pots, pans — you have no idea of the cost of those things. You don’t have to go out and stock a kitchen, or buy a bed, couch, and table. I do — God knows I’ve done it often enough with you. And you want to bicker about a television. A TV that I bought. I’ve lost track of the dvd players I’ve bought.
After I busted my ass trying to get you the paperwork you needed to be successful on Monday in Portland. You are clueless. I feel sorry for you.
I do not want to step foot into that shit hole of an apartment and see how you and your whore live. I’ll pick my furniture up from the front lawn and be out of your hair in three minutes.
You will never understand that you are not owed ANYTHING, because, thanks to my association with you, I now have NOTHING. I will stop trying to explain it to you since you simply can’t seem to grasp it even though it is simple math. There is no 50/50 since you conned me. And you’ll never grasp that everything you have is thanks to me, including your lawsuits.
I want to interact with you from now on as little as humanly possible and hopefully never on the phone again. I’ve had enough of your insults and threats. I don’t need to speak to you regarding the pending lawsuits. I can deal directly with [lawyer].
I have the divorce paperwork and will fill it out. Then we’ll meet at a notary. The next day I’ll take it to the courthouse and within an hour we’ll be divorced.
The fee for the divorce is $273. Be prepared to give me half of that on the day we meet at the notary.
I’m telling you right now: don’t ask me for any more favors. I’m done helping you.
Don’t lecture me on how to label my emails.
And lastly, don’t tell me what you said to me that last night. I wrote it down verbatim before I took the overdose. Don’t revise history, [name].
The contact and disagreement with him has thrown me into yet another depression. No contact is the ONLY way to deal with this type of human being. That last paragraph, by the way was in response to him telling me not to label my emails “divorce” because it was crass or something. So this email I titled: “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.” just to be ornery.
The last comment was in reference to him saying I left him when I tried to commit suicide. I said, “No. You stood in the doorway to the bedroom and said, ‘Either you go or I go.’ And then you left for the bar and I wrote in my journal every word you said and then I took the overdose.”
I need to stop ever expecting him to behave in a humanlike way. He will never be sorry. He will never admit what he did was cruel and wrong. He will always blame me and others.
I really wanted to go read his email account so that I could get filled with more rage and hatred for him, then I quickly remembered that it would only hurt me.
NO CONTACT is the only way to deal with these monsters.
I’ll get my furniture, I’ll move out, and I’ll divorce him. Then I hope to never see his face or hear his voice ever again.
Why did I try to help him in the first place? Because I’m a decent human being, I guess, or just a chump.
But I will no longer help him in any capacity. I am done.
As far as what I hope to accomplish by beginning to rebuild my life at 57, well, at least I’m not 58 yet. I will put this in the hands of God, because it’s way too big of a concern for me.
If you have any thoughts on how I can build up my immunity and get well, I’d really appreciate it.