Yes, I was married before. This is one I call a really bad “starter” marriage. It was bad for a variety of reasons. I won’t get into it. Just note, that I received this on Saturday. So, he sends me a message and then he blocks me. What kind of pussy shit is that? No, I bet his current wife found out and she put a foot up his ass. I would too, if I were his wife. I’m not and thank you! I lost my cat in the damn divorce. I’m still not happy about that. Luckily, we didn’t have kids. We shouldn’t have married in the first place. It felt more like roommates than an actual marriage. Does that make any sense?

So… this is what he wrote me on Saturday, April 8th, 2017 at 8:09 pm :

“How are you? Im fine! I saw your profile on facebook and wanted to send you a message. I know it has been a long time since we have spoken and even longer since we have spoke in good terms. I know you probably hate me but I don’t feel that way for you. If you would like to continue this talk let me know. Thank you for your time.” <sic>

Would I like to talk to him? Hmm… HELL FUCKING NO! This is the second time he’s tried to contact me. We were married on May 4, 2004, and we divorced in April of 2006. I married my new husband since May 14, 2006. Crucify me. My ex was living with his now wife, long before. We separated in February of 2005. It was a short marriage. It wasn’t worth mentioning. He would frequently party and go to bars. He was never home on the weekend. And he even brought home his girlfriend (now wife) to our place. She was his supervisor. That makes it all the better. Where was I? I was busting my ass off for Amazon. He would demand me to clean after working a 12-hour shift. Needless to say, his job was sitting on his ass all day. If you don’t know, I worked for a warehouse. My job was picking books. There were three floors of books and other stuff. I had a rate that I had to hit. I picked 120 items an hour. Yes, I moved that quick. Not today though! My feet would be covered in blisters. My body ached something terrible. The good news is that I didn’t have to go to a gym. I sweated off all my extra weight. Before I became pregnant with my oldest son, I was 130 pounds. The woman the ex left me for, was three times my size. I’m obviously not 130 pounds anymore. Before you shade me, just note that it doesn’t matter what size you are. If that person is going to cheat, they’re going to cheat. There’s something wrong with them, and not you. It took me a long time to learn that lesson.

My ex cheated on me in the first few months of marriage. It wasn’t a great marriage. He kept typing his exes (see the pattern?) and wrote some crap to them for years. I am not the first ex, he kept in contact with. If you know anything about borderline, we have HUGE trust issues. The idiot thought he was being smart by deleting all his emails. I became smarter and found his shit. “But that’s an invasion of privacy!” No, if you’re married to someone, you shouldn’t be sneaking off in the middle of the night. Sneaky behavior like that will trigger suspicion. That suspicion will turn into an in-depth investigation. And plus, I was in denial over my Borderline. I didn’t want to be associated with this mental health illness. I tried to live a normal life. But damn, I found out. Actually, I was working on another book at the time and he was still stupid enough to stay logged into his email account. Well, an email popped up. That email told me everything I needed to know. “I missed you last weekend. I love you. I can’t wait for us to be together. XOXO, signed… the new girlfriend (later become his wife). Whoops! I didn’t mean to barge into his open email account! Shame on me!

I believe people who suffer from Borderline should be private detectives. We can sniff a cheater a mile away. We have mad skills. Normal people don’t check emails. Borderlines check that shit all day long. We’ve already had been burned once. We don’t want to feel that way again. We look for any excuses to leave. We often protect ourselves before we feel that we’ll get hurt. That’s why our divorce rate is incredibly high. We go through multiple partners to escape that feeling of being hurt. That’s probably why my therapist was in shock. I’m in my now marriage since May 14, 2006. We’re still together. That’s shocking not only to my therapist but me. Any sane person would have left by now. We went through a ton of shit together. But this husband was smart enough to read up on all my diagnoses. He took the time and gained an education real quick. He found ways to combat my doubt and fear. That’s what unconditional love is. It’s when you’re willing to stay with the person, no matter what they’re suffering from. It’s showing compassion and sympathy. Not many people are sympathetic these days or care. They want what they want and that’s it.

Has my Borderline improved? Well, we still have bad days. But they are getting less with intensity. The anger is in shorter spurts. Instead of being pissed off all day, I’m down to fifteen minutes. Listening to music and writing helps on the bad days. On the really bad days, I lay down until my head clears up. I found ways to keep my mind occupied.

Another problem with borderlines, we tend to harp on issues for a while. We can’t let shit go. We’re like tenacious Pitt Bulls. We’ll keep bringing it up and bringing it up. We have an excellent memory, and we remember every wrong that a person did to us.

“Well, you called me a bitch in April of 2006.” Yes, I remember everything. I’ll use it in a fight. That’s what Borderline does. We store shit and bring it out on a later date. We can’t let shit go. Like that crappy message, my ex sent me. I should let that go. But my mind wants to have the last word. I want to be right. Why send me a message, then block me without my response? That’s a pussy move. Borderline wants to come out to play. She has a few things to say to the ex. I’m going to let her run wild until the end of this post. Then she’ll drop it, and I’ll return to editing my first book. Take it away Borderline!

Dear Assholy Ex-Husband,

You blocked me before I could respond. Guess what? I’m going to respond. This isn’t going to be a nice post. You thought of me? You’ve been thinking of me? Where were you, when I was scared? Where were you during the ice storm? You didn’t care about me. You cared more about your fucking computer over my own safety. Kids? You lied to me about kids. I wasn’t good enough to have kids with, and you chose to impregnate someone else. Good for you! At least you lasted enough to get one in! I thought I deserved an asshole. I thought I deserve less than what I’m worth. You berated me, made me feel small, and weak. You often made fun of me to your friends. Not to mention, you made me clean up the bathroom from your vomit sessions. You would often come home and slam the cabinets to wake me up. Never mind that I worked 60+ hours that week. You took my hard-earned money and took your girlfriend (now wife) out to dinner on my dime. Now that sucked. Now you have the nerve to tell me that you’ve been thinking about me? Get outta here! I haven’t thought about you, since the day you sent me that message. I’ve never thought about you in the last eleven years, since our divorce. I do miss my cat, Georgie. He was a beautiful Tabby that I’m sure you got rid of just to hurt me. Fucking courts! Every time I think of you, my stomach curdles. I have a bit of vomit in my mouth. What was I thinking when I married you? I know, I was out of my mind. Remember? You called me a crazy bitch. You made it known that I was the crazy bitch. Thank you. Now I’ll be known as the crazy bitch. Well, this crazy bitch was mentally ill. Severely mentally ill. And you didn’t care. The real you came out. It wasn’t long before I realized just how racist and homophobic you were. Damn! I should have seen that coming! I didn’t. I married a bigot. A racist, hypocritical bigot! You saw people for their skin tone, and not their spirits. You made me hate you even worse. I wanted that divorce more than anything in this world. I hated you and still hate you. But I have to forgive you. Forgive you for your ignorance. I have to let shit go. And do you realize how hard that is for me? I’m in the minority. A woman who suffers from her past. There’s no medication that will cure me. There’s no medication that will make me happy. It only lessens the symptoms. No, you didn’t think of me then, and you shouldn’t think of me now. You have a wife and child who loves you. Go to them and stop emailing all your exes. Don’t email me. Don’t write me, and don’t message me. Call me a blip on your radar. A mistake that should have never been made. I still hate you. I don’t want to talk to you. But since I’m writing this… you’re still an asshole with a capital A. You are the type of person, I want to avoid. I hope my kids avoid people like you. They don’t need your mess or drama in their lives. After this post, I’m going to chill in the corner. I still believe you’re a slimy bastard. You owe your current wife an explanation. She deserves more respect from you than this. Poor thing! I feel for her. Thank you, for letting me divorce you. I miss my fucking cat. That’s the only thing I miss from being married to you. Good luck and I hope your current marriage lasts.


Your “crazy” ex-wife

Now that I got all of that out of my system, it’s time for me to move forward. Does it hurt? Nope! From this moment on, I will keep looking forward. I’m closing this part of my past. As a borderline, we have to move forward. What’s in the past is in the past. People have hurt us, but we have to keep moving forward. It’s over and done with. Move on with the people who truly love you. Keep that shit in the rear-view mirror and stop looking at peoples’ emails.  Let that guard down. Borderline doesn’t have to control you. You’re giving it power by harping on the past and acting suspicious of everyone’s intentions. Yes, I know it’s hard. It’s even hard for me. But I need to live. I can’t expect to live life in fear or suspicion. I won’t allow one person to ruin it for everyone. I feel better now. I’m looking off to the sky, and moving on from this bump in my road. Let it go… let it go…




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