Knocked Over By A Feather

But It Didn't Keep Me Down…



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.)


Sleeping Single in a Queen-Sized Bed

I’ve always preferred to sleep alone.

Or, if you like better…when I sleep alone, I prefer to be by myself.

When I got together with my daughter’s biological father many moons ago, he liked to hook his leg over my hip, thereby holding me hostage. It makes sense to me now why he did that, since he hated to have me out of his sight. It was his way of keeping tabs on my whereabouts, even though I was just trying to get some damn sleep.

Which I rarely did because the prick had his heavy fucking leg locked around me, like a human clamp. Just getting up to go pee was a hassle, because he’d always ask me where I was going.

Oh, you know, it’s 2 am. I was thinking of walking the streets looking for some trouble to get myself into, you stupid bastard.

When I left him (finally) in 2002, I ended up sharing a queen-sized bed with my then 5-year-old. She was a fine sleeping partner, unless you count waking up to a little foot in my face or her using my ass as a pillow. I called her an octopus and we joke around about it now.

But once we upgraded to a two bedroom apartment, I had my bed to myself again and she had her own.

It was a joyous time.

I enjoyed the bliss of not having anyone touch me while I slept.

I just can’t quite get on board with the whole couple sleeping peacefully in each others arms thing.

I bet Superman doesn’t fart in his sleep.

Anyway, it didn’t last nearly long enough. When my asshat husband moved in with us in 2004, there I was again, having to share my coveted personal space with another person. He didn’t use me as a body pillow or anything, but he could only sleep with the radio on (I need silence and the white noise from my fan) and he snored so loudly that I had thought seriously a few times of smothering him with a pillow.

I didn’t because I’m cool like that. I’d just kick him really hard in the shin.

But as luck would have it, after about 2 years, he stopped sleeping in the bed with me. He has a bad back, plus he has sleep apnea (which he ignores, of course.)

So, he started to sleep in his big man’s recliner, which now smells like…gross stuff.

Even Lucy here agrees…it smells like ass sweat.

I love my bed. I spend a sizable chunk of my life in it, so it better be comfortable. I have a rip-off memory foam mattress, with a new sheet set made by the fine people who sell Snuggle fabric softeners. I have a buttery, older comforter and the perfect pillow combination specifically arranged for me.

I move around a lot because my chronic pain makes it difficult to get into a comforable position. I toss and turn often, which would drive any future sleeping partner insane, I reckon.

Readjusting to the single life has its share of ups and downs, but at least my nightly slumber hasn’t taken a hit. I don’t miss his body heat or having him there with me.

What about you? Do you love sleeping in the same bed with your significant other or are you like me, no touchy?

*Most of you over the age of 28 should know what song I am referencing to in the title of today’s post. If not, it just means that I’m getting older by the minute.

I Dropped My Crystal Ball

I’ve already had a handful of people try to console me by informing me that now I am free to have sex with anyone I please, since I’m basically a single gal now.

Well hot damn. Line em’ up!!

They wear short shorts!

If you know me at all, you’ll also know that isn’t how I roll. Perhaps back when I was young and thought that sex was a replacement for love I’d be excited, but I’ve grown away from that skewed idea.

Yes, I am lonely. Without being too blunt, I’ve had a mostly sexless marriage for quite a long time. It wasn’t for lack of trying once I started feeling better mentally. I even worked with him with my therapist’s assistance, which really frosts my flakes. It was a waste of my time and hers.

You get to a point where enough is enough. All of this nonsense that he’s brought into my life has done me enough harm.

I just can’t hang anymore.

But back to the aforementioned sexcapades that I am now technically allowed to have. There may be cobwebs down there. I must be pretty hot to trot by now, right?

Well, yes. But that’s why there’s porn.


Anyway, what I really miss the most isn’t the actual sex act, it’s the stuff that comes prior to it, like cuddling, touching, kissing…and if that goes well, who the hell knows.

It can’t just be anybody is what I’m saying. I’m not going to get all dollied up and go to the bar down the road in order to find a random dude to have sex with just for the sake of having sex.

“No Can Do.” – Hall and Oates 

Obviously I have no idea if I’ll ever be intimate with another man again, especially since I have stipulations. Sadly, I dropped my crystal ball on my foot and it shattered everywhere, what a fucking mess.

But I hope that I eventually do and for now, that has to be good enough.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑