Who Wants the Well Done Portion?

Driftwood, by Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues . . . .

Heaven to my ears. I feel like I am going to break out of something soon.

I listen deeply, my fingers feel upon the keyboard of computer more like fingers upon a piano. There is a descent, it always leads to light.

I have been telling my husband my latest version of our relationship, and as painful as it is, I can only see the way out of this through doing so. As time passes, I understand things differently. My understanding is hopefully more accurate, it may not be, I am the one sitting here by my self in the middle of the night puzzling over it. If I did not, who else would? Through the Eyes of A Child, Moody Blues, written of course by Justin Hayward.

My former husband is not a nice man. He is, in fact, cruel. He has a hollow pride. He feels good when he dominates and controls others. He loves the fact that I pay palimony, our childrens' health insurance, their daycare, all school expenses. I held all but the first sacred, because I want to know for sure my children are provided for. But he has more than exploited my doing so, even mocking me that he is the one to take them on exotic trips, never once acknowlging that I am the one to fund these endeavors of his. And I certainly will not to my chldren. They ask me when I am going to take them to places, I take them to family events, to the local town. But I am present, wholly present, and we laugh and we have fun. There are no disney distractions. Take me to court, asshole. Let a judge review your insistence that I take the children upon airplanes to places that require passports. And let me tell you what it felt like to travel the town and find all the hidden messages to write down about child abuse awareness, get all of them so they each get to be part of the classroom icecream party. You tell me where real life lives, you stumped up dick.

My ex husband has done everything imaginable to end my career, which my lawyers have never understood, as I am the one who writes the checks every month. It is a deeply personal thing for him.

He holds a hatred for me the likes of which I've never seen, I suppose other than my second husband's ex's hatred toward him.

It is hard to not just abandon this keyboard and go outside. I most love the nights of rain coming down, surrounded by the circle of trees around my house and soaking in the stillness.

If I'm not careful, that old fucking poet self may come out. Shit, I'd have to go back to doing the poetry readings and answering questions about my poetry, do all that shit again, I hated the after the reading questions, I was always so glad for my mentor's presence. She'd been through it, you see.

My ex spends his time coming up with ways to upend things for my children and I spend much of my time righting them again.

What I desperately needed, and trusted, is that when I placed my faith in my second husband, it was by definition safe to do so.

I would not have done it if I had not believed it. I did believe and I did give him what no one has ever had from me, an openness that I did not know I was capable of expressing to another. I felt drawn to give it, I let myself run along its currents. I was, in deed, swept away. I love him past words.

As a client said to me the other day, "the hurt goes as deep as the love."

She is so right. She and I, so strangely share the same date of birth. What are the odds? But what you need comes to you, in all ways.

There is no safe thing in this world, nor anywhere. My own children are not safe from their father. Still he threatens they will be without care during his custodial time this summer unless I pay for it. Why is it always this way? My first instinct is to protect my sons and give them security, all the way from their knowledge that the socks they put on their feet are always soft and clean to the eagerness that what they put in their mouthes will always taste good and feel nourishing. Why does their biological father not have the same impetus? Why does my second husband do what their own father does not do for them yet leave me until I put a stop to it to the the strange ministries of his daughter? Why are these things the way they are?

Why does he trust me with his sixteen year old son, knowing I will mother that young man as best I can, and pee knows it, too. Why are these things the way they are?

He asks me not to speak of princess. Okay, fine, you asshole. I won't. But here's the deal. I trusted you, gave myself to you. You withheld knowledge from me knowing I held nothing from you. I gave you what no one else has inspired me to give. You knowingly let me do it, you knowingly let me walk into this sinkhole. You let that dumb girl disrupt us in every way, and I don't know why. I trust my sons with you, I would not let you nor anyone interact with them without knowing things imperative to the interaction being as true and good as possible. You let me walk into a morrass of manipulation and I don't know why. So I will not speak of her to you, but I will continue to excise her from me. Had I been a guarded woman, a jaded woman, a not good woman, a woman whose heart was not wholly open, I don't believe I would have been affected nearly so much.

I am open to him, and am openly angry with him, he never knows when he wil be faced with a dose of it. I have told him that we are livng what see in my office. I don't care how old the conflict is, until there is satisfactory resolution to it, it alive and present within a relationship.

I do not understand what he has allowed or why. Why he spit life in the eye.

princessandthepee's blog
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hello, there are a lot of

hello, there are a lot of aspects in your post, PandP, but there is one I can relate to.
My childrens father went through a stage where he would not look after them properly, forgetting them on his care days at school, being completely selfish etc.That was when he dated a girl who lived 2 hours away and all he cared for was to drive up and down there, sometimes twice a day, next to a stressful job, insane really.I begged him for mediation and he would refuse it (probably knowing it would all not look good for him).He lied like Pinoccio about arrangements that we had about the kids and twisted everything around, leaving me and the children in a total mess for our care arrangements.
I was totally panicky about what impact his behaviour could have on my children and also on the relatively new relationship I was in with my SO, since I was a nervous mess at times.
Anyway , my SO is a NLP coach and does know a lot of strategies how to look at things realisticly.
PandP, I think , sometimes our mothers instinct can lead easily to catastrophic thinking, most of the times we can ask ourselves, if many of the assumptions we made about what could be , is really gonna happen.
And , as much as we want the exes to parent our children the way we want them , we can't control it anyway.
As long there is not any serious safety issues for the children, yes, they may eat junk food when they are there, maybe wearing dirty clothes etc....
Mind you, Pinoccio-EX was never a truly cruel person,plus he turned around to be a good dad after he broke with that girl.But I think I know how you feel a bit.

^^^^^the first paragraph of

^^^^^the first paragraph of what she said...

You are all very wise. There

You are all very wise. There is something I cannot figure out and it maddens me. Why can't I let go of this? Why do I turn it over and over in my head? I love him, I want peace and happiness, but I rub at my own sore spots, I make them worse and worse. I don't have to do that, no one makes me. But I do it, I feel full of wanting a do-over! But no such thing exists. I never profess with clients to know much about forgiveness, I respect them wherever they are at on the journey. I seem incapable of it, and I don't know why. I am not a mean person, I am not a vindictive person. The ability to move past this eludes me and I feel confused - why can't I seem to do this thing I want to do.

I would love to hear everyone's thoughts, feelings, experiences with forgiveness. My husband forgives me for the things I do that hurt him, why can't I do this thing when I love him so very much.

You are all very wise. There

I would love to hear everyone's thoughts, feelings, experiences with forgiveness. My husband forgives me for the things I do that hurt him, why can't I do this thing when I love him so very much.

Goddamnit, I HATE the

Goddamnit, I HATE the touchpad. Three times now my calm, still calm, little agitated and now agitated words are tying to get through. Could someone, anyone, tell me the logic of a touch pad. The scenario: a keyboard you hover your fingers and writsts above. A touch sensitive black hole under your wrists. If you're a writer needing to think, pause, if you let your wrists touch any thing other than the letters, god only knows what will happen in terms of electronic communication. This seems stupid to me.

Tonight it's Depeche Mode. StepAside, I think you captured it perfectly. Yes, there are levels of hurt involved with step daughters that level affairs. I have two examples that I have viewed as the intervention of fate erasing them before I could post them. I have a feeling that will not happen tonight.

Fucking touchpad almost deleted what I wrote thus far, but I think it may have left only a typo or two in the first paragraph. Limp wrist old lay, I mean lady, I can't handle (ooh ha ha) the touch pad. God this whole language is too much fun. I like to hold my hands over the keyboard, guess I should not do that with this, sorry to obsess, touchpad.

Among those 10,000 songs, are many old Depeche Mode songs I'd never heard. Sensual ones, and I thought I had them all. Guess you never have all of anything.

Ok, I ramble. StepAside, it is exactly like an affair he's had. In terms of fidelity in a real sense, my husband is a person I respect. He went nearly fifteen years without any physical intimacy at all, slept on the couch and never had it on his emotional or mental horizon to do less than honor his marriage. He is not a man who substitutes intimacy with pornography. He holds relationship sacred. He is capable of faith. He never lost it in his ex-wife. That is why today, we were presented with the grossest, most disgust legal inquisition I have ever heard of. It is so outside of bounds of anything I have of even here, I am red hot on that count. That cunt has me in her wiry crosshairs. Look out, honey, I gotcher back sweetie.

StepAside, it started when I was his girlfriend. I had no frame of reference, and I was always positive and energized by my love for him. She demanded that he get out of bed every morning he was with me and drive her dumb ass up to her high school. I always wondered why it was understood by the three of them that pee would catch the bus. What the fuck. And all the times her father and I would have a night together, there were not many, because of my custody of my children, that she would end up stranded here there or the fuck anywhere. Dumb twat. Smart twat?

There were two incidents, both of which, as I mentioned, I have typed out here but maybe god interceded and fucked my wrists. I think tonight they will end up posted.

They hurt me in ways that I cannot come to terms with. My husband has more than openly expressed his understanding of how I feel and why, he has a deep understanding of himself. I cannot put any of my inability to forgive upon him. He has looked me in the eye, he has done everything a person could do. I cannot forgive, and I DO NOT KNOW WHY. It hurt me so deeply, I had never opened up to anyone the way I have with him, I know I cannot live wholly without him, he is my mate.

The first critical incident: I'm not sure, I think maybe we were supposed to get together on a weekend I did not have my boys. He and I planned to get together Friday. princess snapped her cunt the way she always has. Plans changed. Now that I remember, the evening's plans involved my sister and her boyfriend. So they still came over, but princess's father was delayed.

princess has always loved broadcasting her need for tampons. In fact, she and her brother and her dad apparently had some weird running joke about one of princess's tampon's hanging from a bathroom light fixture. Myself, don't get it.

The evening was interrupted because princess called upon her father to accomany her to Victoria's Secret to purchase a bikini. So I take this in, procede with the evening with my sister an her boyfriend as planned. At one point he sent me a text about his visceral experience of seeing his daughter emerge from behind the curtain of the dressing room in a leopard bikini and how beautiful she was, and oh my god, my daughter has grown into a beautiful woman.
,
Ok, when I was eleven or twelve, not 18, my older sister dressed my face up in make up and you know what happened? She brought me upstairs, proud of her make up job on me, and she showed my dad. My mom was in the kitchen making supper and tolerating all of us kids. And my dad held my little face and said, "What a pretty girl ;)" as much praising my sister's make up job as my 'tween face. There was no aspect of my father that was focused on me as me. What he was focused on was how he as a father was being a dad and a male to his daughters who were two prebuescent girls and he knew that we needed him as an example of how males should respond to us and what we should respond to with males. My dad is a good man.

So my sister, her boyfriend and I were together kinda hangin out and havin fun and what not, and my husband was severely delayed due to bikini shopping with princess. When he finally showed up, he sat down on a stool and was sort of breathless, still. He was all adaze. He described, moment by moment, the experience of princess drawing back the dressing room curtain at Victoria's Secret, his face was all aglow and melting. He described princess presenting herself to him in a leopard bikini. My sister, her boyfriend and I all exchanged looks but he was still so entranced that he didn't notice, he still doesn't understand.

I felt disgust within myself.

Then the fruits of earlier layed things. By whom, by what, really, ha.

So I think that was her throwing the gauntlet down, because, and I still don't know, but based upon what her father promised me (I never asked him for anything, he proposed, he let it go, left me to pick it all up), it was after that I for the fist time, wrapped in a blanket because I still trusted him with my vulnerable self, in the circle of my trees confronted him on everything.

StepAside, there are levels of betrayal that I do not know can be seen through. I have a keen memory, I have a fair memory, I have an extemely sensitive heart. What I wonder is, this: if someone shows me they are wholly capable of hurting me, through accident or through intent, what I cannot ignore is their ability to hurt. We all have the ability to hurt.

So he chose her over me, and it did feel more than wrong. How do you live with it, StepAside? I love my husband, but I do not know how to live with any of it.

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