I went to the musical The Adams Family tonight. A local production company that is really really great….It was fun, went with a couple of girlfriends.

In the middle of the play, I began to feel a little guilty about the email I sent to Scott last night, when he told me to stop writing about him if I wanted him to stop reading the blog. The email was, to put it mildly, beyond the pale of vitriolic. I didn’t know I had that much anger at him still in me. I was raging, because once again, instead of owning his story and what he did and MAYBE apologizing for breaking the promise that no one would ever see the things I’d written for his eyes only, written them when I was crazy in love with him. It would have been nice if he could have felt ONE BIT of empathy for my position. It would have been nice if he actually wanted to keep them to himself, as a remembrance, a good remembrance of who he and I once were. It would have been nice if they were special still to him, if he appreciated the effort and care that I put into them for him, and not defaced and demeaned them by showing them to anyone else, especially her.

The reasoning behind showing her fails me. Just fails me. Why he would want her to know, unless he were trying to get her to write some, and wanted to inspire her through jealousy again. The reason she told me, was, I believe, like Emma said, she wanted to hurt me. She wanted to make sure that I knew nothing that was special between he and I remained.

I said enough bad stuff about her in the email, and she’s insignificant to me now. So I won’t go there again. The point of this is…I was feeling guilty about lacing into him, because it’s not really where I want to go or who I want to be.

Then I look at what he did to me, over 6 or 8 months. The lies and the deceptions, the cruelty and the heartbreak. The numbness of his heart. And then used me once more to bring her back to him, playing on her ridiculous jealousy. In her position, I would have never talked to him again.

This latest thing, the breaking of trust again, the showing of my work to someone else, when it was meant solely for he and I, was just the straw that broke the camels back.

I think, really, what I was trying to do with this scathing, vitriolic email, with the white-hot anger pouring out of my mouth, anger because he was now going to tell me what to write, when he was the sole cause of all the pain I have had for a year, was trying to get him to not want to know what I write. To want to never read another word from me, here or in an email. I was trying to get him to leave me completely and finally alone. I was trying to use a flame thrower to keep him out of my life.

Because I just can’t do it anymore. I just can’t stand having him pop up once a month to remind me how MUCH I loved him, and how MUCH he hurt me. That he dumped me for HER. That he used me again, for his own ends. That I was THAT stupid, because I loved him THAT much. I just don’t want to see his blocked messages, or an email, or anything from him. I don’t want him reading this, and if I could block him I would. I want him to go live out his life, with her or without her, but without me, because he only brings negativity to my life, and I have had enough of it.

Do I love him? It doesn’t matter if I do or don’t. The man I loved disappeared when she showed up. He morphed into an asshole, and now I wish he’d just leave me alone. It’s none of his business, really, if I still love his soul. If I still love the child who steers the riverboat, and has a fascination for the deep. An addiction to walking the edge. An addiction to all things not good for him. But honestly, he had read all my blogs up to this point. If he doesn’t know the answer it’s because he’s chosen to deny it.

And then there is this damned connection. I feel him now, right now, as I type this….I am trying my best to ignore the constant vibe that buzzes through my heart and solar plexus chakras, sometimes into my sacral. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know anything about him. He successfully turned me into a person I don’t particularly like with this latest bullshit.

I’m tired, and I’m aggravated that this is still on my mind.

I have my dreams manifesting, I have the fireplace to clean out tomorrow, and the house to powerwash, and I have his damn energy humming all through me. I’ll put on my music, put in my earbuds, and get to work, and drown out the hum.

It’s all I can do. I’m just praying that my email, and my “Fuck Off” blog got rid of him, for a time anyway. Not sure if forever is a possibility. I’d like to think it is, that our roads have diverged, and he will go off on his own. But I thought that had happened already, and last night I found out he still reads every word. Still hanging onto that thread, that one thread that connects us.

Well, off to bed. It’s been a long day, as I struggled to put all the crazy damn chaotic emotions of the last 48 hours into some kind of order, and reclaim my equilibrium. And to work at the same time, and then go out tonight.

Better days tomorrow. Love and light.

Some other updates. Enough BS crap. 

The date yesterday was….meh. He’s a very nice man, but totally not my type.  No connection, and boring, this kiss of death with me.  He seems to think there was some connection. He sent me a message after saying how much he enjoyed it, and we should get together soon. I haven’t responded.  Feels like a waste of time.  Gonna try to just let it slip away unnoticed. 

My Fl house has had the gas hooked up and the water.  My sister is going to do a walk through today and check out the stove, hot water, toilet flushing, etc. it should be mine in 11 days!!!

My house here.  My BFF’s hubby came over last night to help me figure out what to do with the fireplace. We decided to just take off the broken glass door and I’ll get a decorative screen to put in front of it, after I clean it really well. Huge improvement after taking the door off. Another friend is loaning me a power washer this weekend so I can power wash the front of the house. Next week the landscaper comes. The following weekend will be the final cleanup, and we’ll schedule the pictures for the listing. 

Yikes!  Really moving toward that dream! I’m very excited about it!  

I’m going to a play tonight with 2 of my girlfriends. “The Adams Family”. The musical. It will be fun!!!  I’m hoping someone wants to go out tomorrow night but haven’t really checked. Gonna do that today. Last few days were hectic.  

So life is moving, fast and furious. Thankfully. Very grateful for so many blessings in my life. They totally outweigh the trials I have had. 

Love and light all. 

I slept well last night, surprisingly. I guess when I get my truth out, my head is clear. I have decided that since he is determined to continue reading my blog, I am no longer going to censor what I write because of it. I will write as if he was dead. And her. I could care less.

That means, if I need to continue to peel back the layers here, I will. He can’t discuss it with me, he can’t respond to it in any way. Nor can she. Although, what she has to say doesn’t infuriate me anywhere near as much as him. I get where she’s coming from. She’s a jealous, possessive woman. She responded previously to prove to me he is hers.

Well he’s all yours, Betty. The man you turn him into is not the one I ever wanted.  And make no mistake, he morphs for every person he meets.  It’s why he has few friends, because no one knows the real him.  He  can be molded easily.  But I never wanted to mold him, only to know him, as he was.  And to love that person, in the center.

I just can’t imagine why he would want to keep reading every word I said, on the chance that it might be about him. And even if it IS about him, why does he care? He supposedly “loves” Betty. WTF does he care what I have to say? This blog is anonymous, it’s not as if anyone who reads it would recognize him or her on the street. So what does it matter? He says if I don’t want him to read it, stop writing about him. Well…if he didn’t read it he wouldn’t know would he? And the only way to find out is to keep reading. To say that’s why he reads it because I write about him, is putting, using an anachronism he loved, putting the cart before the horse. You won’t know if I’m writing about it unless you read it every day. Even if I don’t write about you for a week, Scott, or a month, I may then write something about you. So you’ll have to keep reading them all to find out if you are still on my mind.

Well, I know that he’s a classic narcissist, and loves to see his name in print. He loves the attention, good, bad, ugly… It’s still about him. I could care less what he thinks of me. Which is why there is no avenue of communication open to him. I’m totally uninterested. I know too, that any communication is only to draw me into his darkness, and I’m not going. I’ve been there enough.

It’s possible that he reads the blog because some deeply buried part of him wants to find a way out of his darkness, his unhappiness, his dysfunction, his depression. Because I write about that a lot, how to get up when you’re down, how to find your way back to the place that connects you to the one great thing. I always told him he ‘s worthy and he is. But when he’s with Betty, he’s going the wrong way. He and she bring out the very worst in each other. They are comfortable with that, with saying I love you in spite of the fact that you won’t allow me to be myself, in spite of the fact that you lie and deceive me, cheat, and re-write your story constantly in order to be able to recreate yourself in the image I want you to be, because I won’t accept you as you are, or try to make you happy.

She would NEVER write erotica. And he loves it. She would never do a lot of the things I had no problem with. Things he loved. Things that put a real smile on his face. So he changes to be acceptable to her. Except…he can only do that so long before his soul rebels. He’ll rebel again. Not with me, but he will. Those feelings, those emotions you bury, don’t die. They rot and fester and either make you sick, or cause you to react. To act.

Blech. Sad sorry way to live.

And then there’s the thing that’s been going on since she came back into his life. The fact that he could never let me go. It’s why last summer unfolded as it did. It’s why I don’t hear from him for months, and then find him in my bed. Or get some smart ass voice mail, and the voice mail is always to do with this blog, because the blog is the thread that continues to connect him to me. It seems there might be some of that twin flame relationship stuff going on. Push pull (push me away for 2 months, then run to my bed….now push me away again…only to pop up with some stupid voice mail that was, once again, a lie…) Chasing, catching up. Then falling back into the darkness.

It’s whatever. If he gains something positive from reading this blog, fine. If it angers him, I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. I love the truth, and it’s not always comfortable, it’s not designed to feed the ego. He was part of my life, and I’m not going to pretend he wasn’t or that we never existed, I’m not going to deny the way I loved him, nor the ways he betrayed me again and again. I’m not going to silence my thoughts on all of it. Whatever may come. Some days something, some days nothing.

If he has to keep reading, he’s on his own. I will not allow him to pull me into his darkness. I continue to seek the light, and the source of it.

Love and light, everyone.

He tells me if I want him to stop reading my blog to stop writing about him.   I told you all he was still reading them. He hasn’t seen me for 3 months, and he’s still stuck on reading every word I say. Her too, I imagine.

Not quite sure how I do that, stop writing about him, when it’s still so fresh.  I mean, he was in my bed a few months ago…telling me what a bitch she was, how everything had to be her way, how he had no friends because of her, how she put everyone else first, how she was a runner at the first sign of trouble.  He wasted no time getting to me when she took off. We were talking in 24 hours. He was in my bed in a week. Is that something you do when you love the person who left, just jump into the bed of the woman you were screwing around with that caused her to run?

Not most men.  Most men would lay low….if they loved her. They’d try to prove that they loved her. They’d try to prove they could be faithful. He ran, to my bed. I wanted him there, I never stopped loving him.

I think I have now, stopped. I mean, I think I see him clearly and how he drags my life down to the basest level.  Even if I still love him on some level, (because I don’t believe love ever dies, it just changes) the last person I want in my life is him. He lies, he cheats, he makes up stories to pacify assholes. He’s taken by surface beauty and can’t see below it, he can’t fathom someone’s soul.  He can’t stand on his own two feet. He can’t stand in his story. He changes his story every time the wind blows. No thanks, not for me. But then, in January, I hadn’t stopped loving him….and as long as I knew he wasn’t with her, which I did, then it was ok with me. It did a lot to help me heal from his cruelty of last fall. To know we still had that connection. And we did, we talked mostly, for hours. We fell into our old routine of texting all day, and talking at night, even more than before. He begged me, literally, to be there, to talk to him, because I was the only person that knew the whole story and could talk to him about it. I was there for him, because I loved him.

And he turned on me, like a rabid dog. As if I’d done something wrong.

I told him tonight that when he was with me he wasn’t a liar and a scumbag, that is what he’s become since she came back into his life. She inspires him to be his worst self. Lying and cheating and deceiving. A man with no backbone, she caters to his lowest self, and when he gets there puts a leash on him.

And he’s fucked up enough to like it.

I can’t even fathom. I would never ever want that man. I’d make jokes about him, and laugh at him, being led around by some frigid bitch. Christ.

Anyway, he had no business even telling her about my stories I wrote for him. They discussed them, he said. She never read them. Well…she told me she did. So one or both of them are liars, but then we already know that.

But they discussed them??? What? Did she have questions? Did she get titillated by them? Cripes, would YOU want to discuss erotica written for the “man you love” by another woman who loved him and was able to have great sex with him? Knowing that the stories were about the two of them? The woman he was screwing while you thought you were the only one he was screwing. (And screwing is what he did, screwed everyone.) Sound like a discussion you want to have?

Pretty sure I heard an unanimous NO……

I gotta let the sick people go. I can’t get caught up in this again. It’s obvious I still have a few flashpoints, and I’ll learn to deal with them.

From the beach in Florida, where in January, Scott said he would love to come visit me. Till Betty got jealous. Whatever, the invitation is off. Let him stay up here and freeze his ass off. Let him be miserable with the miserable bitch, wondering why she can’t drum up the passion for him that I could. Maybe he doesn’t think he deserves it.

He did…..Maybe that’s what scared him.  Maybe it was like Marianne Williamson says, “Our greatest fear is not that we’re inadequate but that we’re powerful beyond all measure.”  I tried to convince him he was not inadequate.  She convinces him he is.  I can tell by the way he has to lie to pacify her moods and jealousy.

Whatever. Maybe it was too much for him to be loved like that. Maybe no one had ever loved him like that before. Nor will again. It’s the only way I know, in a relationship. Put yourself out there, give him every bit of you. Open, open your heart as wide as you can.  And when you get knocked down because you find out you chose to love an asshole, learn how to rise strong.

Well, I know there’s someone out there, who it won’t be too much for. They’ll be forgotten with the first sunrise over the Gulf.

I’m venturing out, putting my toe in the water. The dating water. Imagine. I didn’t mean to….I wasn’t going to until I get moved.

But I just spent an hour and a half on the phone with him, and he’s a nice man. He’s real, he doesn’t seem to be a game player. He seems to have a center. I enjoyed our conversation.

Funny, he asked what I will do when I retire. I told him…make jewelry, and he asked if I had a shop on Etsy. (which I do….www.sundogsdesigns.etsy.com) and that I am obsessive about writing so would write more. He asked why I liked to write, what I get out of it….he actually took an interest in what I do, why I do it. I barely knew how to react to someone giving a shit about what I do. I didn’t tell him about the blog. I won’t ever give anyone I’m dating the link to this blog again.

But I wanted to laugh…S used to always say I should write erotica, because I wrote some for his eyes only, because he asked, because I would do almost anything for him, as long as it wasn’t illegal. And Alec said, well, if you want to write for money, write erotica. He was a CPA, he says, it will sell. But he was joking. S always said if I published a book of it he’d buy it. I’d never written any before, and I’ll probably never write it again. It was part of our dynamic, it was fun, it was intimate between us…I didn’t tell Alec I have written any and won’t. It was for S’s eyes only, he promised, because I was uncomfortable with it at first. But he betrayed me again, broke his promise again. Of course he showed B. Which he had no business doing. But he’ll betray anyone, anything he says or promises is subject to change at any time. It does hurt me a little that he treated it so callously. It was my gift to him, not to be shared. I would write it when he was feeling down, when he needed a lift, when I was thinking of him, when we’d been talking intimately all day. It was about he and I, not her…she was not a part of it and shouldn’t have been allowed to read it. She shouldn’t even have known I did it. He was probably trying to make her jealous again. But it is what it is, you know, you lie down with dogs, you get fleas. Lesson learned. I hope B knows he’ll do it to her again too, when it suits him.

So much stuff that happens brings up S. I hope that stops some day soon.

Anyway, Alec and I are going to meet for coffee one day this week. He is retired, so he asked me to make the plans around when it’s easiest for me. He said, “You tell me when and where, I’ll be there! I think you are a fabulous woman.” LOL.

I’m looking forward to meeting him.

Going to bed. Love and light.

I spoke to my son last night, about his father.  I gave him a synopsis of the conversation I had with him.  Son just shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.  He knows who his dad is, and even though we both always hope he’s different, we are never surprised that he stays in the same dark, unhappy place.

People used to tell me not to talk to him about his father.  I have always balked at that advice.  Especially when son lived with him.  I could only protect him by informing him.  To not say that “your father is an alcoholic” would be to deny what is true, and evident.  And now…I don’t want to set my son up to think his father is going to be different than who he is.

I told him…my feelings on his talking to his father have not changed.  That I would still like them to talk before he moves.  But I did empower him, to feel free to stop the conversation if he felt the need.  If he couldn’t take the stories his father fabricates to absolve himself of all the responsibility, if his father refuses to acknowledge the truth.

How he can possibly come to the conclusion that it was his and my relationship issues that keep my son from talking to him, when he was so abusive to my son.  I’ll never forget the night I saw huge purple bruises up and down my son’s left side, and later found out they were put there by his father.

Maybe I should just confront his father with that.  Maybe I should just make him understand that I know, that son knows, that those are the things he has to reconcile.  He will rage, and I guess that’s why I don’t.  His rages are irrational, loud, ugly, and violent. Even though, I don’t think he could do anything about it now, I think his rage would not affect me, I really don’t think he’s in any position take his rage out on me.  I wait for him to get struck by lightning and see the light. Not expecting it to happen anytime soon.

Considering putting a note in the bag with the cassettes, speaking the truth.  Easier than talking to him.  Allows me to avoid his temper.

I will accept it if my son just chooses not to put himself through a conversation with his father, and honestly, I think that’s probably what’s going to happen.  I don’t think he can stand to listen to his father weave his bullshit, to have one of the circular conversations that his father excels at, designed to confuse and wear you down, and go nowhere.  Chaos, it only creates chaos.

It’s why I cut him off yesterday, “ok, believe whatever you want.  I gotta go.”  That’s all.  Before he has me screaming at him, which is what used to happen, as I tried to make sense of his irrational thought process.  Now, I just accept that he is who he is, and leave him be.  Wish him love and light, and go on with my life.

As with everyone who reads this, love and light.