So…

how do you react when you see the ‘other woman’ ? 

As I have already posted I live in a small town. Like incestuously small. My husband shat on our doorstep. I know this woman, I have loathed this woman for a while to be honest. She is peroxide blonde, surf babe wanna be who maintains her size 10 figure and yet unable to keep a man. Who posts constantly on Facebook and even took to posting on my husbands… nice. 

They were surf buddies. ‘Psycho billy’ (my name for her) came around to my house as she was going to help my son get his fitness back, she’s a personal trainer. The chemistry between my husband and her as she battted her lashes and didn’t take her eyes off his was beyond ridiculous. Stupidly I told my husband. We fought. We have never really argued, but she came into our lives and the arguments, like all great hits, just kept coming.

Fast forward a couple of months and they have become friends. Then the beginning of December his obsession was realised when she admitted she had feelings for him. Within a month, he and I, after discovering their texts, were thru. Then Things went into overdrive. A couple of weeks of … I don’t really know of what. She made him think it was love. But he was still sleeping with me. Holding my hand and curling up close to me in the night. 

Cue ‘time out’ cue him leaving cue him coming back. Cue him not being sure,  cue him being sure and somehow he fell in love with me again. Properly in love with me. In the way he looks at me, touches me, talks to me, holds me. The love we found in our twenties ; love. 

He told her yesterday, nearly a week after driving home. He told her on the phone that they were done. Then met her to explain in person. He felt he needed to give her that. That he was breaking  her heart. ‘After a month together all the while you were living with me you think you have broken her heart… seriously? What is she 14?’ 

So, driving along today together we see her van outside a mutual friends house. And, well you actually couldn’t have timed it any better she walks around the back of her van and looks straight into the passenger side of our passing van. Where I am sitting. I don’t know how it happened, it was the last thing I expected but I grinned broadly said ‘hi’ at the top of my lungs and waved frantically. She waved back not realising / or realising who I was. God she looked awful. Like dug up awful. 

Fuck me but I am one powerful woman. Or maybe I am slightly psycho billy too. But the look on her face was worth it. It was my way of saying, you don’t know me, you know nothing about me and you have no idea what I am capable of . 

Strength + courage = fearless

Advertisements

It seems…

That Hell has a basement. 

I am a cliche. 

Whereas I thought he was the cliche – midlife crisis with peroxide blonde tattooed personal trainer. 

I have also now become the joke- I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I cry without knowing I am. I find myself just staring into space without even knowing I am. I am a fucking mess. I put on a brave face when necessary but the rest of the time…. I just feel dead. 

I keep waiting to wake up. When will I wake up and this all be over? Please God let it be soon. The pain is so great. The pure unadulterated anguish. I know people in the world deal with greater things, harder things, but that doesn’t take away that, for me, this is the worse thing that has ever happened to me. And yet my heart still beats and I still breathe even tho I am dead.