He never came home to his father’s house last night. He never arrived at school this morning. Keith….if you are reading this by any chance at all…please call me….I love you and I’m scared to death. Everything will be alright…but you have to come to me so I can help you.
Please call me Bucky….I’m going crazy.
I think I’ll keep Rick. I love you honey and could not be the person I am today without you.
Having just written the last post I wanted to definitely reflect on all that I rarely write about or say because despite the hardships and troubling moments, I am so blessed and I never lose sight of that…not ever.
Rick,
I love you. You amaze me. While there is no perfect, I think we’re so damned close. So damned close that the margin of error that we have is so insignificant that it’s nearly invisible.
Thanks for supporting my dreams, for encouraging me to be myself and for laughing at my insane jokes and glib remarks. Thanks for thinking you so got the catch because I know I did too. Thanks for forgiving me my faults and my mistakes and letting me struggle through things without interference or judgment. Thanks for “checking with the wife” and then for not getting mad and thereby letting me call your old boss and insist on retrieving your tools without checking with you first. Thanks for allowing me to be empowered as a woman. Thanks for living with my stacks of books and crazy piles of hair that seem to end up everywhere I go.
Thanks for making me dinner, putting the mirror on my dresser, taking Chloe on walks when I’m not home and letting her dig out her own bone from the bag because it makes me grin from ear to ear.
Thanks for the life you’ve built with me. It’s absolutely amazing and my time with you is a gift. A gift with a big bow on it. The kind of gift that you want to admire before you open it because the outside is just as lovely as anything that could be tucked safely within. Thanks for teaching me what a promise kept feels like. Thanks for allowing me to vent about every person that has hurt me in the past so that I can walk through life with you without being full of resentments and long harbored ill feelings. Thanks for insisting that I hug you back and not giving up on me. You put up with a lot and rarely complain.
I love you!
Kristy
Keith,
You’re the son I dreamt about having. You’re the one I thought about before you were born. You had your name long before you were ever mine. And you are more amazing than I ever hoped for.
Thank you for laughing with me, letting me say whatever I need to say and telling me things that most teenage boys might not tell their good old Mom’s. Thanks for helping me organize, telling me which shoes are the better pair and for forgiving me for everything I ever thought I could have done better by you. I will probably never feel like I deserve you, but I will always be grateful that you are my son.
I love you and I’m exceedingly proud of you. I think you’re the most unique person I’ve ever known and I love just as you are, just as you desire to be, and for always unconditionally.
Love,
Mom
Chloe,
People may laugh because we all know you can’t read. But I love you despite that flaw. Thanks for always being loyal and faithful and loving me with every bit of your bigger than body heart. Thanks for sitting with me when I study and laying with me when I’m tired or sick. And thanks for being willing to lick away Mommy’s tear’s even when they’re mixed in with makeup and gunk. People may laugh because we have our own language but my life is so much more because of little you.
Love,
Mommy
Upon speaking to Rick regarding his encounter with my ex at the ex’s pastor’s house on Saturday we realized that my ex’s wife was also there. Our conversation went something like this
Me – was his wife there? (referring to my ex’s wife)
Rick – no I don’t think so, there was this old lady there and I asked the pastor if it was his wife and he said no
Me – Did she have a mushroom styled hair do and gray hair?
Rick – yes
Me – that’s his wife
A few minutes went by as we ate dinner
Rick – He’s so stupid. He left you for that old hag?
I was thinking the other day that I rarely blog, and that mostly I am pushed to emotionally blog whenever something is going on with my ex. I attribute this to my inability to write when I am blissful and happy. I have always done most of my writing when in the bouts of a deep depression or hardship.
I wrote the following email to a friend of mine and I realized that I’ve been struggling with this for quite some time. 99% of the time I am happy go lucky and peaceful and then something having to do with my ex creeps in and those old ghosts serve to haunt me and make me into someone that I really don’t feel I am anymore. It’s as if I’m beating myself up for having ill thoughts at all and yet I understand. It’s a constant struggle. My email to a good friend best explains this struggle I believe.
Email excerpt:
I worry sometimes that my hatred towards my ex is unhealthy however I find that his hard times are like stress relief for me. I find them to be humorous because of the same things. He used to tell me I would be nothing if he left. He once told a mutual friend, “If I left her she would lie down and die on the kitchen floor because she wouldn’t know what to do.” That mutual friend told me these words as we were divorcing.
I have 4.5 more classes to complete to earn my college degree. He’s the one who has a dying life that no amount of CPR will help at the moment.
Karma. I believe in it.
I try very hard to be respectful of the people around me. I even struggle with how a “good” person should be reacting to their ex-husbands antics. I mean I often find myself feeling bad about my happiness at his sake. I mean I recover quickly but I am not a person that finds joy in other people’s downfalls because I have experienced my own.
I finally realized that it’s not his downfall that pleases me….it is his fall from his high horse (a high horse only he believes exists) that pleases me. If he was a decent person and we had just not worked out as husband and wife I wouldn’t feel this way. It is because he used me, abused me, hurt me and stepped on me for years all trying to destroy me just so he could play good guy by trying to build me back up.
When Rick said, “he’s so stupid he left you for that ugly hag” I said “yes that ugly hag who’s a teller at a bank for maybe $9.50/hr, a woman with no goals or aspirations except to be a home wrecker and hurt other people.”
I think most of my glee is also largely directed at her. She knew me and she saw what he did to me and she lied and cheated to get him. She deserves every stolen check, bounced check, mortgage late fee/statement and bond payment she gets. I often find myself daydreaming of wicked things that should happen to her.
I then spend several minutes meditating trying to be a better person than that. I struggle with this hatred and desire to be a good person…truly I do. It’s a hard thing to explain. End email excerpt.
Having shared this, I must also state that I do struggle. I struggle because I feel so damned blessed with my life and all that it has become. I struggle because half of me wish’s him well and then the other half remembers. That half that can’t forget the unanswered phone calls, the escape routes in the early morning hours as he rushed off to fuck his whore, leaving me to feel worthless and unloved. And yes, I cheated back, I lied back, I became someone I hated and wanted to kill (thoughts of suicide were constant for the last few years I was married largely because of this). I try try try so hard to forget.
But the notion that he lies to his own pastor and has never come clean with anyone about exactly what happened and what he did, these things are disheartening. So often while I laugh (because what can I do if not laugh?), I am also in disbelief that anyone could continue on such a bad path. I honestly wish he would change for everyone’s sake.
But her…..I can’t help but tell myself it was her who watched me suffer when he took off for 21 days with my son to another state to shack up with his first affair. It was her who bought me a battery for my car while he was doing this.
She deserves it…because she saw it first hand in my pain.
People don’t cheat because the “other woman” or the “other man” is better looking, younger, hotter, richer, etc. They cheat because they are not fulfilled people. My ex is still not fulfilled (as evidenced by his own willful lying to his own pastor). It’s not that I think she’s a hag, it’s more than I’m befuddled by her having known and then expecting that she could change him or for her he would be a different man. Zebra’s don’t’ change their stripes.
99% of the time I smile, I laugh, I plan my future and the future Rick and I have to look forward to. 99% of the time I regret nothing because my path brought me here. But 1% of the time I struggle with making the something before work in the something that is now….and overcoming the hatred and anger and disbelief. His wrong doings are not mine to bear, and yet because we have a son together…I always feel as though I must apologize for the wickedness that he is. I always wish he was someone better, because he is my son’s father and no matter how much I change, grow and work on being better than my sometimes hatred….I know that I will never change his father.
I should probably spend more time writing about how Rick put the mirror on my dresser for me. Or about how I found a big box of awesome Halloween decorations on my patio that I forgot about. Or maybe about the Health class that I’m learning so much from. Or I could speak about my awesome relationship with my co-workers. Or about how my friend Greg moved to Germany to be with his girlfriend Isabelle. (Talk about a love story!) Or I could write about how he called me today to say hello less than a week after being gone. I might even mention that I’m reading Oprah’s latest book pick. “The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski and I could tell you just how awesome the book is and I’m only on page 77 and I don’t want it to end. I could tell you how I’m planning to decorate my bathroom or about some great blog’s I’m now reading. I even got my book that www.kristyk.org put together and how cool it is. I should just maybe concentrate on the good things because they far outweigh the lingering frustrations I will always have because of my baby daddy.
