It’s been a while since I’ve been compelled to put feeling to the false veil of anonymity that the web provides.
I’ve sent a sarcastically scathing email to the family based team that listening to them has resulted in another broken bone. This time my arm. In true form though, I fell skiing, got up and went back to the top of the mountain. Can’t let a broken bone stop me.
Next day I carried myself to urgent care, head hung low… breaking your dominant arm.-Who knew wiping your own ass could be such a challenge.
Special K made a grand appearance, showed up at my house unannounced. Scared the fucking shit out of all of us. He was though, happy as a clam, professing the magic of taking cough syrup in excesses amounts. Attempting to sell me that his new gig of “robotripping” is akin to ketamine therapy. Ya, know, because ketamine therapy isn’t a go to idea for, say drug addicts. Who knew.
Knowing what SK is capable under the influence, I did my best, albeit, apparently very poorly to ‘keep the peace’.
Body bag or peace, I opted for peace. I still failed. There is no making those drug addicts happy after all.
I would surmise that to be his reason for hiring an “escort” to fuck him – because we all know that’s what good upstanding husbands do. The Disney skank wasn’t enough, lets pay to get off. STD’s are only a bonus after all.
Awesome. Gross. More gross to think I have actually slept with such a scummy person. We’ve all had our share of mistakes. Mine just haunt me.
Needless to say…His crazy escalated, because you can’t reason with drug induced psychosis. Trust me, I know this to be true – all too well.
He went from professing his love, deep regret and apology for all the hell he left to walking into a court house and lying to get a PFA.
This worthless piece of abusive shit told the court he lived here, that he cared for my children…the same ‘man’ who fucked over his own kid to get high.
He tried to have me evicted from *my* house, with *my* children. My lawyer did me a solid and listened to the lies my ‘husband’ fed the judge.
I cannot wait until my divorce is final, I feel like I am living life in a perpetual waiting game of hurry the fuck up and get it over with. The loser I married is out on bail, he’s got *another* felony charge. Because one isn’t enough.
His ass is in the hospital now, he got the shit kicked out of him. Good. How does that feel?? Was it before or after he paid for some escort? Before or after he bought a $130k car but can’t afford a lawyer to right the wrong of not being able to see his own child?
Oh wait, my bad…it has *nothing* to do with his choices – it’s all the mothers fault! duh.
Last week was extra special fun. This time he took his high self into court, missing the reality that I spend my days at a law firm and it’s no surprise that I was fully aware that he was making an ass of himself in the Court of Common Pleas. They are laughing *at* you 😉
This time, I will not allow him to weasel his way into me, to create doubt, fear, insecurity… to do *exactly* what he wants me to do so he doesn’t have to go to jail.
This time. This time is different. There is a Detective that in on fucking point. Why now and not before? I don’t know. What I do know is that abusive relationships seep in and grab you so strongly that the force to extract yourself from it, is almost something that seems unattainable.
Until it doesn’t.
Until one person in power *hears* it. Then it all changes when you finally are able to trust that someone who can, actually does.
I’ve had my disgust with the judicial system in Lancaster County, but right now, I see my local police department acting like they care and I am not just another 911 call.
SK may just end up in jail this time. I hope if he does, it’s for a very very long time.