7/7/2022 in My Dearest Husband Diaries

Today is Therapy Thursday.

You see, my dearest husband, because of you, I am now in therapy. And on anti-depression medication. And medication for panic attacks. And a prescription strength sleeping pill.

And you don’t even know.

Thanks for doing that to me, by the way. I appreciate you destroying me to the point of needing to be medicated to make it through the day.

You know about the very first panic attack, because you were there, and it was because of you that it happened. Lucky for me, you recognized what was happening, because I was convinced I was having a heart attack. Too bad you could do nothing for me except sit there and watch me go through it. Did you honestly think I would be okay with you touching me? No, I was not okay with you touching me. That is why I kept scooting away from you till I had myself boxed in a corner and had nowhere else to go. Which just made the panic attack worse for me. Why would you not understand I was trying to crawl away from you? I understand you were trying to get me up off the floor, but I needed the floor. The floor was cold. It felt good against my skin. Lucky for me, you were able to get our daughter to come home to “help” you. She was there for me, not you. She was the one who was able to get you to stay away from me. She was the one who took my hand and laid it on her heart so that I could feel her heartbeat, and feel her breathe in and out and was able to get me to match my breath to hers. She was the one who put an ice pack on my neck. She was the one who was able to get me to drink some water. She was the one who was able to calm me. Her, not you. Oh, in case I didn’t already tell you, I don’t give a flying fuck how scared you were during my panic attack. 

A week later when I had the 2nd panic attack, I promised our daughter I would seek help. And I did. You know I went to the doctor, you assumed it was for the first panic attack because you didn’t know about the second one. The only thing you know about that doctor appointment is that I was tested for STD’s thanks to your adultery. Can you comprehend, my dearest husband, how humiliating that was? Me, a 51 year old woman, having only been with one man in the past 30 years, and there I was being tested for sexually transmitted diseases. Thank you for that as well. Asshole.

So, yes, my doctor put me on Prozac. And Vistaril for the actual panic attacks. And put in a referral for therapy. And here I am going through the motions each day. The Vistaril really wasn’t helping, especially with the sleeping so she put me on Desyrel to help me sleep. Because after 2 months of only 3-4 hours of sleep each night, well, it wasn’t helping my situation. I have no problem falling asleep, just staying asleep. I am up multiple times during the night, for hours each time. 

I still have the panic attacks. Not as often, not as severe as in the beginning. Most times I am able to calm myself on my own. Only one time while on the phone with our daughter during a panic attack did she threaten to hang up on me and call 911. Her telling me that was able to get through to me and I was finally able to calm myself. That was about 3 weeks ago. Since then I’ve had 2 “mini panic attacks”. I felt them beginning and I was able to stop them before they began. That is no fun. I don’t know which is worse, having the panic attack or stopping it as it begins. It’s like when you first wake up and you have your first pee and you try to stop it as soon as you start peeing. It’s next to impossible to stop peeing, at least for me, especially when your bladder is so full to begin with. That’s what stopping a panic attack as it begins feels like for me.

Thanks to therapy, and all the free time I now have, thanks to you, my dearest husband, I have been paying attention to myself and my surroundings and I am learning my “triggers”. This past weekend I discovered my biggest trigger … our daughter. I will never tell her that piece of information. I will never distance myself from her. Today’s therapy session was about ways of how to adjust and adapt to being around her. It’s going to be a struggle for me. But I am hopeful that I will be able to overcome this obstacle. Because again, distancing myself from her is not an option. She is all I have left in this world.

Have no fear, my dearest husband, you will be informed of just how much your adultry has affected me. My lawyer is planning to use my mental suffering against you. He is going to ensure you end up paying me the extra alimony I have requested to cover the extra medical expenses you have forced upon me. You think that half your military pension is sufficient for me. You think because my state is a no fault state, and therefore does not recognize adultry as grounds for divorce, that you are “safe”. Guess again. You thought that a 50/50 split of our money & giving me everything else but your personal belongings would be enough. Had you not cheated on me with that white trash whore, I probably would have been agreeable to that. But you did cheat on me. You chose to destroy me instead of being respectful and treating me like an equal. I will not be the only one to suffer the consequences of your actions. All I have is your money to hurt you with.

I told you if you agreed to my terms, I would not contest the divorce and you’d be free of me within 60 days. You think I don’t deserve the extra alimony I asked for. You originally agreed to pay for my lawyer, if it turned out I needed one, and then you cut off my credit card so I couldn’t use it to pay for my lawyer. So in exchange, I am now going after your IRA & Roth account to cover the expenses of my lawyer. Because I have contested the divorce. So I guess you did end up paying for my lawyer afterall. Yes, I told you I would not touch them, but you went back on your word, so it’s only fair I go back on my word. 

I wish I can be a fly on the wall to see your reaction when you find out that I am also requesting that you buy me out of my half of your truck. I’ll never know why my name is also on your truck title. I didn’t put it there, I did not request it. I did not know it was even on it until I saw the texts where you were complaining to your whore about it. That is why I kept my set of the truck keys instead of giving them to you. Legally it is half my truck. If you want me removed from your title, you have to pay me half the value. Otherwise, I keep my set of the keys and you will never be able to sell it/trade it in without me. Oh, and in case you haven’t looked it up yet, my dearest husband, the Blue Book value on your truck is $18K. My lawyer will be nice and allow you to sign over your half to me, if paying me $9K is not what you want to do. Or you can sell it, and give me half the money. Or you can sign the truck over to me, free and clear, without accepting a penny from me for your half. But I know you’ll never give it to me. Your whore loves your truck, she loves driving it. You will never risk disappointing her by getting rid of your precious truck. You are probably scared shitless that she will leave you if you give me your truck. So yes, I wish I could be present to see your reaction. Maybe I will get lucky and my lawyer is waiting for us to go to mediation before informing you and your lawyer of our intentions so I will get to see your reactions in person after all. A bitter, petty, heartbroken, scorned wife can dream … 

Oh and the best part of my petty revenge? Wait, my dearest husband, till you find out that I will not be signing any divorce papers … at least not before 11/25/2025 … if ever. Now I understand that this sounds a bit self-destructive, staying married to you. But let’s be realistic here. I have nothing to lose staying married to you - I’ve already lost everything there was to lose … except my medical insurance. If we divorce before 2025, I will lose it permanently one year after the final date. But, if we make it to our legal 30th wedding anniversary, I get to keep it for life, not to mention during the duration of waiting till 2025. So it is in my best interest to stay married to you so that I can keep my medical insurance. If I lose it, I have to get my own, and I will lose money each month from my paychecks, not to mention the extra costs out of pocket for co-pays, and medication. So yes, you will be super pissed when you find out I won’t sign before 2025 but I dont give a rats ass. Be pissed. It doesn’t matter to me. I won’t be the one having to live with you and suffer your wrath. Your white trash whore will get to have that privelage. She can suffer your abuse on my behalf. Teeheehee.

And then, the other revenge benefits of staying married to you … A) Because you both are in a hurry to get your divorces so that you can marry each other, yeah, that won’t be happening anytime soon, if ever. I mean, you couldn’t even wait to file for divorce first before you asked her to marry you. Fuck you, Asshole. That stab to my heart will cost you. Your white trash whore will forever be a white trash whore mistress. If she has any respect for herself (which she has already proven numerous times she doesn’t), she’ll dump your ass, again, because she will not tolerate only being your mistress, instead of your wife. B) If you pass away before me, I will be legally entitled to everything of yours. She will never be able to have a claim to anything of yours. Yes, I am already the sole receipient of your full military pension, and the sole receipient of your life insurance policy, but it will also make me the sole receipient of your social security as well, instead of just half. And your damn truck will be mine. I will enjoy every second of driving it out of her driveway. C) You thought you had everything all planned out and you were going to be free of me. You have spent the last 30 years molding me into your perfect doormat, my dearest husband, and therefore you were convinced you could walk away, free and clear. Guess again mother fucker. I’ve spent the past 2 months growing a backbone, learning to stand up for myself. You are about to regret the day you decided to be so cruel and vicious towards me. I am about to make you very fuckin’ miserable for the rest of your life. You will not be free of me anytime soon, if ever. I’ll teach you how to respect people if it’s the last thing I do. Your only hope of escaping me is with my death. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Now, if I can just get my lawyer or his assistant to return my calls with an update on where we stand with everything. I know I told him to take his sweet-ass time, and he (my lawyer) is in agreement with me about holding off till 2025, at the earliest, but damn, give a client an update every once in a while, especially when she asks for the update.