Knocked Over By A Feather

But It Didn't Keep Me Down…



Writing for me is a sort of self therapy and something that I have loved to do since I was young. I write about many things such as fibromylagia, chronic pain and depression. Sometimes, I also make an attempt at being funny.

Time To Lay the Man to Rest

I don’t have many words right now. I am exhausted, mentally and emotionally drained.

He moved his stuff out last night, but don’t worry, I had two of the strongest people I know with me, forming a sort of human shield against his asshat waves. (Perfect description, thanks Ali.)

I only lost it once while he was moving his belongings out to the garage, but I didn’t fucking cry.

It was undiluted, pure anger.

On my last post, Bojana and Wulf both left me a song. “Time for me to Fly” by REO Speedwagon and “My Love” by someone I’ve never heard of before, Kovacs.

Thank you both so much.

I’m sharing “My Love” today because the lyrics are perfect, Kovacs voice is perfect…well, you get the picture. Bojana, you’re wonderful for sharing her music with me.

It’s like a balm for my torn heart and weary soul right now.

My Love by Kovacs  2014

Babe don’t try to call
My heart is ticking and the show, just won’t wait

It’s strange, you couldn’t see it my way, hey now go
I pray for you to fall
The spark, has died and now you’re just too late

A shame, you’re knocking at the wrong gate, hey go home
Come what may, I won’t give away

My love, diamond rings and Chevrolets
My love, aces high and cigarettes
My love, faking all like Hollywood
My love, love, love

No way you’ll see me crawl
Like a shark I’ll be ripping you apart, and celebrate
With lots of champagne, you caught me on the wrong day, now you know

Come what may, I won’t give away

My love, see me dancing in the rain
My love, no more whiskey and cocaine
My love, ending all forbidden fruit
My love, love, love

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
No you can’t amuse me, so leave you must
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
If the spell won’t kill you, your ego does

My love, diamond rings and Chevrolets
My love, no more tears and no regrets
My love, time to lay the man to rest
My love, love, love

Music is detrimental to one’s healing process.

I’d like to ask you guys if you could share a “fuck off you cowardly piece of festering hamster shit” song for me to listen to.

Then I can compile a playlist when I’m feeling blue and shit.


A Beautiful Hot Mess

I feel as though one of my main obstacles right now is finding a way to forgive myself for staying with someone for so long that I knew deep down was a bad egg.

Calling him an egg is a much too kind example, perhaps I should go with the word asshat.

A fucking bad asshat. There, that sounds better.

I lied to myself, made excuses for his anti-social behavior, ignored the truth that he’s a sociopath with a dash of sexual deviant thrown in for good measure. I called him that back in July when all of this asshattery finally came to light. After that woman sent me his ad, a snippet of their conversation and his dick pics. He got really angry, so I must have struck a nerve.

The more that I think back over our years together, the more I realize that he’s probably always been messing around on me behind my back.

But I always let it go, blindly trusting every excuse he had up his sneaky sleeve.

My therapist wants me to write a list this week of all of the bad shit that he’s ever done to me. (This list has been continuing to grow since yesterday afternoon.)

He’s been an awful role model for my daughter, which breaks my heart because I always thought that deep down, somewhere, he did love her.

Well, I thought that he truly loved me as well.

As it turns out, he doesn’t know the concept of what love is. I thought that I could teach him, poor guy, his parents never showed him any affection. He was originally like a project of mine, as though I could wave my empathy wand over him and poof, he’d turn into the man who I wanted to desperately believe was hiding inside.

It’s a tough pill to swallow for me. I’ve now had two failed relationships that cover my entire adult life thus far.

I sure know how to pick em, eh?

My therapist said the following to me yesterday:

“From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry that this has happened to you, Mer. I’d shoot him for you, but I’d go to jail. He’ll stay miserable for the rest of his life because he’ll never admit that he has any issues. But you’ll thrive. You’re a beautiful hot mess right now and it’s okay.”


Every emotion that I’m currently dealing with is perfectly normal for such a massive life event.

If I’m being honest with myself and you guys, it has been years and years of his constant betrayals, heavily shrouded by his clever subterfuge.

He’s let me down so many times…so fucking many times.

It’s time for me to take charge of my own life, to figure out who I really am. Each day that passes, each tear that I shed, every memory that hits me in the gut…this is the painful path that I must walk in order to find my self-respect and independence again that I’ve allowed myself to misplace.

I told my daughter last night that maybe I’m not cut out to be in a relationship.

“No, mom. You deserve someone who really loves you and I think that you’ll find him someday.”

“You too, kiddo. But I hope that my experiences have taught you what to run away fucking screaming from.”

She smiled slightly, nodded and then went back to watching tv, finally at ease in her own home.

I took a deep breath and pulled my bathrobe tighter around myself.

(Again, thank you all for being here, for reading, commenting and supporting me.)

Fishing in my Head

He sent me a text message yesterday afternoon.

“Hi. May I come by after work and see Maya?” (My American Bulldog, who is struggling with his absence. He didn’t even mention our other dog Maggie.)

My friend Cheryl was here with me (because she’s awesome), since I was having a really hard time, being the first full day since he left and all.

“What should I say back? I can’t see him today, I just can’t.”

“Tell him no, not today.”

He responded a few minutes later, a simple okay.

My daughter has been sick these last few days, so if she isn’t at work, she’s been in her bedroom sleeping. I have a handful of friends that I could reach out to, but so far I have stayed pretty much to myself.

During my nap today, I had a bad dream which ended with him telling me that he didn’t love me anymore, that his love for me has turned into dust.

I have to admit, I had a weak moment. I texted him back this afternoon, hoping for what, I have no idea.

“Did you still want to see the dogs?”

“I do…possibly tomorrow?”


“Today, yes.”

“You’ve already replaced me, huh?” (He won’t tell me where he’s staying.)

“No, I just have stuff to do. If not tomorrow, then on Saturday when I come to put my belongings in the garage.”

“That’s fine. I’m glad that you’re doing well.” (Not really.)

“It’s just one day at a time.”

How dare he use one of my favorite mantras?

My mom says that he’s still fucking with my head. His elusiveness as to his whereabouts is him trying to make me wonder if he’s staying with a woman or at least seeing one already. He ultimately needs someone to take care of him.

I couldn’t imagine myself going out on a date or having relations with someone right now.

I finally texted back, because I’ve always liked to have the last word.

“You’ll be much happier.”

I can’t show him any more of my pain or suffering, I think it feeds him somehow. I know that my first ex got off on hurting me and making me cry. I’m starting to think that he also secretly enjoys causing me emotional turmoil, perhaps it makes him feel like a real man, to hold the cards and deal them out as he sees fit.

I want him to believe that I’m doing great right now, even though I’m having mini anxiety attacks. I’m trying to take all of the great advice from everyone. I know that this is a process and that eventually, I’ll be better off.

Healthier, even.

I told my mom I wished that none of this had ever happened.

“Mer, IT DID.”

Yes, mom. It did.

And there ain’t nothing that I can fucking do about it but endure and try like hell not to bite when he tries to go fishing in my head again.

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