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9:25 a.m. - 2012-05-21
buring down the house
Heather e-mailed me with dates for our next rendez-vous. J. had misread something I wrote in an e-mail and we're good.

Still I am depressed and miserable.

Had to go to Mar's kindergarten screening today with Matt the Scat. Sitting there next to him enrages me. Playing wonderful parents to our adorable kid.

Oh, I know 50 percent of the parents there are probably divorced. But we're not talking about their imploded marriage. We're talking about MY imploded marriage. It's different.

You know what it's like having him walk out of our marriage without warning, without ever bothering to tell me he was unhappy, when I expected to spend the rest of my life with him and I was pregnant with our second child?

It's like you bought a house together, busted your ass for 10 years to cover the down payment, and then the sonovitch goes and burns it to the ground -- no insurance.

You lose the house, and you're stuck for the rest of your life making mortgage payments on a pile of ashes. That's the custody shit, the court battles ... marriage should have meant I get love and support, someone to raise my kids with, someone to chase dreams with. Instead marriage has meant being cheated on, lied to, humiliated, verbally trashed until I feel like dirt, losing my self-confidence and trust, starting a career over from ground zero at age 32, being stuck in the state of Connecticut for the next 15 years instead of being free to roam the world and bring my husband and kids with me -- shit, shit, shit and more shit, just a pile of shit. No, he hasn't ruined my life, but he sure as hell wasted a good chunk of it, left me in a cage called Connecticut and has become to me the dogshit smell that sticks to the bottom of your shoes and just won't quit.

I know why people hire hitmen. I am not kidding about that.

I however would never hire a hitman because I am smart enough to know that no one is too smart to get caught, and besides how do you get revenge on a dead guy?

I hate him.



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