My middle son is now eighteen, and it was a kind of sad day.
I guess it was sad because he is now eighteen which means he’s growing up. A tip for all of you with toddlers and kids in elementary? When they get into Junior High and High School, all the sudden time goes into hyper drive and they grow up. They walk out the door with their superman backpack and when they come home after school, they need to shave. They walk out the next day giggling and squealing in their high chipmunk voices and come home later with deep Darth Vader voices. It happens in the blink of an eye without permission from you, they don’t ask they just grow up and it sucks.
I was also sad because eighteen is a trigger, it’s the birthday/graduation/vacation that my husband was a ass…okay ASSHOLE to me, and it made me flashback yesterday. Hell it drug me back at times, like the movie ‘Drag Me To Hell”, only instead of a demon it was a fat cancan whore. She had ahold of my legs and kept pulling, whining in my ear “he was going to leave you for me, but then you ruined it!! You always ruined it!!” Days like yesterday made me want to scream back at her ” You can have him!! Please take him and you two enjoy your ‘fairy tale’!!”
I know it’s not nice, wishing that on anyone…being stuck with the whore. Hey whore’s ex-husband/current husband/poor bastard? (what do you call a man who was married to her, but is divorced from, but still living with her, and she puts his ring off or on depending on her mood? Let’s go with poor bastard it is probably the most accurate) Hey poor bastard, I am so sorry for you. You are probably a good person who is in love with a whore. I wish for you and me they had gotten their ‘fairy tale’ because they both would have been miserable, and we probably would have been friends. I don’t know maybe not, I’m not a damsel in distress and a drama queen but if given a chance you might have found me funny. I guess that ship has sailed though, I write a blog I hear you aren’t too fond of. If I’d taken a different route and gave your whore her way? I think you’d like the blog just fine, but instead you are there…stuck with her…reading a different version of the truth, my truth…one not covered in lies and whore tears. I wonder if you ever look at her laying in bed by you and think ” You fat cancan whore, I’d like to ship you to Oklahoma and let Crazy Kelly have five minutes with you…” I get it, the anger you have to feel, but thank you for not Fed-exing her to me, I don’t want her. The voice I still hear, whiny and nasally is enough for my sanity, those huge thighs up close and personal? They’d probably drive me over the edge.
So yeah, I was a little angry yesterday. It has been awhile since I’ve had one of those days, and it made me a little sad. I don’t like fighting the urge to punch my husband in the face as he’s driving down the road. I don’t like having to ride with my hands clenched in my lap, wringing them together, telling myself to stay in the present. Arguing with Angry Kelly, “You will not punch him in the throat!! No not even a mild karate chop?!?! Since when did you take karate? No old Jackie Chan movies are not the same as going to classes!?! No you can’t jump on him and scratch his eyes out, he’s driving for the love of God!!” Back and forth we’d go until finally we would stop and I could open the door and let the fresh air flood in, and the anger flood out.
He asked me at one point, what was wrong. I told him I was having a ‘rough’ day, and he didn’t understand why? He had done ‘little things’ for me all day, how could I be having a bad day? I gave him a slight smile and answered him as I always do…
“It’s not about the man you are today, I wish it was, it’s about the man you were.” He didn’t say anything else, he just hugged me tighter. I felt bad then, because it sucks for him too. It’s like being the ‘bad kid’ in High School in a small town. No matter how much you change, grow up, and become a good person, everyone in the small town is always going to think of you as that ‘bad kid’ from high school. The only way to change it? You probably would have to move away and start over.
He stayed in a marriage after cheating and breaking his wife’s heart. On my bad days the shadow of his infidelity makes it hard to see the man underneath.
It was my middle son’s 18th Birthday yesterday.
“Runnin’from your folks, running’ from the law
Runnin’ from love, running’ from your fears, runnin’ from it all
You keep on runnin’boy
You’ll run yourself in the ground
You’re always seventeen in your hometown”
-Cross Canadian Ragweed-