Posted by Anonymous.
A letter to everyone:
To my work wifey, I am sorry for what I am about to say…I would gladly sleep with your husband if given the chance. I never will, out of the fact that you’re married and you’re a great friend to me. But it does not help that there is an obvious mutual attraction that we have both admitted to. We’ve both also said we would never, ever act on it. But please know that if the circumstances were any different, I would gladly sleep with him. When he’s helping inexperienced me saddle up the horse, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. Why do you think I always ask you to help me? But he always jumps in, and you’re all too happy to let him so you can saddle up your horse. He’s a great man, loving, respectful, hard-working in every sense of the phrase, funny, and smart. I fantasize about him quite a bit. I’m sorry, I truly am. This is why I am not over at your house as much as I used to. Because I do not want to see him kissing you, wonder what it would be like if it was me. I know this makes me a horrible person, and I’m sorry.
To my fiancé, I am no longer in love with you and have not been for quite some time. You are a fantastic father, but a horrible partner. We have not made love in over three months. You come home late with no explanation or such a flimsy one; I am convinced you are seeing someone else. You smell like perfume that is not mine. You always have a new reason why you will not touch me. You’re tired, you’re sore, you’re mad at me for [insert small inconsequential thing], or you’re just not in the mood. I stopped trying after a month. That was two months ago. You always have to be right. You have an experts opinion on everything, and there is no such thing as a debate with you. You MUST be right, you cannot fathom that someone else would have a differing opinion. You always seem to find fault with something and yet you are so skillful at doing it. “I’m sorry, and I’m not trying to be rude but…” Can’t I do something 100% right anymore? You seem to think that it’s constructive criticism but when you say that there’s always this long list on what I’ve done wrong. I’m too impatient, too bitchy, not smart enough, don’t know enough, can’t do this, can’t do that…I cannot honestly remember the last time you said something positive or nice to me. And trust me, I sat here for a good ten minutes before I typed out that phrase.
If the constant belittling wasn’t enough, you seem to resent the fact that I have a life outside of the home. You don’t say anything until you’ve got yourself good and pissed then you explode. It is not my fault you’ve alienated all your friends and they never want to be with you. One of your “friends” admitted that he was tired of your cheap & elitist attitude, so he stopped calling. I go out maybe twice a month, which I didn’t think was THAT big of a deal. Most of the time it’s just hanging out with my girlfriends, helping them out with something, whatever. I have tried to explain that I need time away from the baby, you, the house, just to keep my sanity. I have explained the importance of girl-time, and me-time. You cannot fathom why taking a five minute daily shower is not enough. People that have only met you once or twice have commented on how surly you seem to be, and how short you are towards me. I am tired of saying, “Oh he’s just having a bad day. He’s normally not like that.” But you are like this. All the time.
You deposit my paycheck and then drain the bank account without warning. I stopped bothering using the debit card for fear that it would be rejected. It is humiliating to have to ask for $10 to treat myself to lunch ONCE A DAMN MONTH. I am a grown woman who works hard for her money, and I would think 4 years would prove to you that I do not spend money frivolously. Yet you treat me like I’m spending our rent money, or taking food out of our pantry. It is humbling and humiliating. You say you’re “shielding” me from the money stresses of our lives. You seem to forget that I am an accountant by trade. I deal with money and could probably do a better job than you’re currently doing but you control the finances with an iron fist. You REFUSE to let me get involved, and become infuriated when I ask to be so.
You aren’t aware of this yet but I am currently trying to figure out a way to leave you. Despite your protests, you WILL pay child support. You will NOT get her for a week on and a week off. That would mean two daycares and finding a daycare that is kosher with that arrangement would be impossible. No, you will see her every Wednesday and every other weekend, just like your children from your first wife. You will pay child support again. I do not care if you must move back in with your Mother. Tis I that must set up a whole new household, since you own just about everything. New furniture, new deposits, yeah, this is gonna get expensive quick.
I won’t do this to you, but I could nail your ass to a cross for sexual abuse. Oh, yeah, buster, I could. When I say STOP or NO or THAT HURTS, guess what? THAT MEANS YOU STOP. That doesn’t mean you should forge on ahead! You have whittled away my self worth to nothing, and I feel lower than a whore. At least a whore gets paid for services rendered. I get you rolling over and going to sleep. Last time you did that to me, I wanted to simultaneously vomit & crush your hands. I will say this to you….You should be thanking whatever cosmic deity you pray to that I have not told my ex-Special Forces father about this. You see, I’m still his baby girl that he will kill to protect. If he found out his precious baby girl was being molested by her fiancé, he’d have to kill you on principal. Laws be damned, nobody fucks with his little girl.
To my daughter, I am sorry that I can’t be the mother you need me to be. Right now, you’re only two years old. You’re content to blow kisses and proudly show off the new body part you learned that day. But you’re so full of energy, and you want me to run around with you and I have nothing left to give you. Between the demands of my job and trying not to break the eggshells I walk on around your father, it takes a lot out of me. I never wanted to be like my Mama was with me, but I fear I am: always tired, always crying, constant headache, popping anti-depressants like they’re candy. Mama drank pretty heavily, and I used to refill her wine glass all the time to keep her happy. The difference between Mama and I is that I wait until you’re in bed. I don’t get drunk like Mama did, but I know I drink too much. I drink to feel numb from the situation I feel trapped in. I’m sorry that you were given this sorry excuse for a Mama. I try to play with you, paste a smile on my face, and try to find the energy to be the Mama you need. You can’t understand this right now, but most of the time I feel like breaking down and bawling. But you don’t like it when I cry. “Mimi no cry?” you ask, wiping my tears away. No, baby girl, Mimi no cry. Mimi is happy! See Mimi smile! It’s so hard to smile when you feel dead inside, like the very life has been stolen from your soul. But I smile for you, my dear girl. Because you want to see Mimi happy, and because I would give up my life to make you happy. Because you are the only true source of joy in my miserable life anymore, because your smile and laugh makes me fall that much more in love with you. Because your hugs and kisses make me want to shed tears of joy that someone as wonderful and as magnificent as you loves me so completely, though I have done nothing to deserve your unwavering love. I am trying to be the Mama you want and need me to be, but please understand my darling girl…Sometimes Mimi’s do cry.
To my fiancé’s ex-wife…You do not know the rage I have inside of me. It is only the fear of prison time that keeps me in check. Woman, you’re one more snide comment away from getting a black eye, courtesy of yours truly. I may not have a four-figure handbag, but at least I didn’t gang-bang a group of sailors on leave and then do a line off their erect penises. Yeah, bitch, that actually DOES make me better than you. That makes be SCADS better than your coked-out cum guzzling ass. How you haven’t lost custody of the kids is beyond me. But please…DO remark how my purse CLEARLY came from a discount store and YOURS is Gucci and by GOD that makes you a better woman. I trained under my ex-Special Forces Papa, and while I’m certainly not the most threatening thing on two legs, I can fuck. You. UP. And woman, the rage inside me is bubbling just below the surface, courtesy of a fucked-up family dynamic and your lovely ex-husband. When you see me smile when you pull up, it’s not because I’m happy to see you. I’m envisioning ways to maim your skanky ass. For this I am not sorry. I hope you straighten up, but I sincerely doubt that will happen. In the meantime, please just get arrested so the kids can go to their father. Or die. Dying works for me too. The contempt and hatred I hold for you knows no bounds. I think I’m a bad mother, I know you’re an abominable mother.
To everyone that tells me I’m bat shit crazy and need therapy. I’m in therapy, assholes. It’s not fucking working. Y’know what would work!? Lets see here…Oh yeah! My Papa could stop blaming my Mama for everything wrong in his life since they divorced, for starters. My Mama could stop drinking herself into oblivion every night. I wish my twins epilepsy would get under control. She’s losing her memory, her motor skills, and they’re coming without warning. Eventually, it’ll be ME taking care of her. Yet another thing I would happily do so she can FOR ONCE IN HER LIFE know some peace. Her life has been wrought with struggles, pain, and suffering. If taking care of her full time means she can be at peace for once, I will do it. My soon-to-be-ex could stop being such a controlling abusive asshole. Oh, yeah, that’s right, NONE of the above is going to happen any time soon. So I guess in the meantime I’ll have to shut up and plan on leaving.
And smile. Just keep smiling for the one true love of my life.