when two become one

In some sort of facebook-worthy, publishable manner, he was going to oh-so-generously give me two hundred dollars for covering childcare of the kids--our kids--the kids that he fathered--for two weeks while he vacations somewhere in the Rockies, likely with his new GF. But, wait. He decided that I am only covering five of his actual days of kid time and two hundred, would be way too much moula and so decided to give me one hundred, instead.

Oh my. I would actually hate to be the recipient of some sort of ridiculously-over-the-top generosity of two hundred dollars. I mean, my God, what would I do with all that cash?

Step aside, Ivana Trump. Here I come.

I might start bragging about bleeding him dry of TWO HUNDRED greenbacks in TWO WEEKS!

I mean, seriously. Look at my manipulative success. All the cash he's given me in the past year, could amount to a small fortune. And they say the narcissist has no empathy. Clearly, they didn't meet my philanthropic philosopher Ex!!

Oh, wait, can zero technically be defined as a small fortune?

I'm almost certain that, philosophically, it can be.

I'm almost certain, that this is precisely what he tells his friends.

And, I'm certain that he has labeled himself as the most-generous-divorcing male on the planet, par excellence, because, he's got to have you thinking that he is the best at everything, including divorce.

things hoped for

Some days, I hope beyond all hope that I am actually all that He says I am.

I hope that I am the evil bitch He thinks me to be.

I hope that I am actually some sort of vigilante out to destroy him, victimize him, and end all things rosy and pretty in life for him.

Cause that would mean that I am the problem. That would mean that one day three little people—my three little elves—wouldn’t actually have to wake up to the reality that He does not actually care a rat’s ass about them.

They would never have to have their little hearts ripped out in knowing these painful things about him.

And as much as I crave validation. I think I could be ok with just being the problem. I could be ok with just being the fucked up mother who failed them.

And that would be the end of it. I could spare them all of this, by being the bitchy, bitch who never dealt with her stuff. As in mom, needs therapy. Mom needs to work out her shit. Mom needs help. And all of this narcissism shit could just go away. 

Fucked up things you hope for...