Grief is a Muthaf*cka

Posted on October 20, 2021 by faithsju243
Seems about right, some folks need to “tighten up!”

No surprise to you Faithfuls, I took a break. I needed a break from the words. For the past couple of months, I’ve sat in the heaviness of my loss. Grief exists in a world of other emotions (denial, anger, depression, acceptance, etc. etc. etc.). Y’all know I hate the feels. And I’ve never taken a full moment to process all my shit. Over my voiceless time, I lost 4 blood relatives, some closer than others and that surreal experience ripped the seal I keep on my feelings. The pain took my breath away, in a way I’ve never experienced in life. I cried longer than my usual 2-minute stops and forced a sit down. A sit down with myself where I sat with my grief and realized part of my life today exists in a living tomb filled with memories of things promised but not kept. It makes me cry angry tears.

Annoyance, directed at myself smolders. When someone mentions The Nino Brown of Sugared Beverages, I’m frustrated that my today remains entangled with his yesterday delaying my tomorrow. Not entirely his fault. The grace I extend him allows me to understand one cannot be more than their capacity. Tying up our loose ends no matter how we ended our together forever but not really was always my destiny. Yet, I crave movement beyond the tragedy of The Anti-Husband. The papers remain unofficial because of city level covid delays that leave me shackled to the responsibility of a past I wish I never had. The weight of it, his weight, literally drags me daily. My silent ask, when do I get to be FREE? I admire My Past’s ability to live life detached from the responsibility of it…maybe that’s his gift and potentially how he curses others. Someone is always left holding the bag. Unfortunately for the here and now that someone is me.

Yet that frustration and simmering resentment shroud themselves in intense feelings of guilt. While admittedly missing my extended family, the laughs, side eyes, maybe on some level components of the drama there’s no sense of loss for My Past. I don’t know how to reconcile that. I think I should feel something more for him and I’m mad at myself for not being able to feel what others project I should feel when they lose “their person.” In their eyes I see lingering hurt, droplets of bitterness slink through their asks of how I’m dealing with being single, and others have knee grows ain’t shit bitterness that does not exist in my space. I do sincerely hope My Past receives everything he deserves out of life…but otherwise empty. It’s my un-jumpable emotional hurdle. Why do I not feel the feels like others feel and will this always be my emotional barometer?

But Alas…welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here (https://faithfromphilly.com/hello-world/) before going forward.

If you recall the Anti-Husband poked the bear. He all but asked in mid-January for me to unleash the hounds. He texted along with 10 random pictures of us, “Whether u want to admit it or not we loved each other once…and the way my heart is set up…that love is forever. I don’t mean to upset you I just want u to recognize the truth. I failed yes…But u brought out my best. Salute to a true Queen…Shawty u the shit. I’m sorry I had no real point to this. I clearly was just thinking of u…I’m looking forward to reading your blog. I hope ur well.”

It’s funny, not ha ha but ironically funny that The Anti Husband always laces apologies with a lack of accountability. He’s too maturity deficient to understand that salt mixed with water makes for an unappealing drink. Or it could be his point…the jury remains undecided. Maybe he thinks I should feel a sense of profound pride knowing the adult in age child that left was better than the shambles I found. I’m positive they aren’t giving out prizes for parenting alleged adults.

I can’t adequately debate his feeling of love. I can however refute that he loved me. Here’s an example, how does one know if they’re a good parent? Is the proof in the product of their labor, years later a well-adjusted adult, or their single assessment of themselves? I’d argue proof of their goodness rests in the product of their hands. Therefore, if the product of The Anti-Husband’s hands is the adult in age child standing by the conclusion of our together forever but not really, than I’d say he’s correct in his assessment of failure and incorrect in his assessment of love. And don’t get me wrong, our split is not the issue. The devil’s in the details. It isn’t the what he did, it’s the how. The how speaks to his character as a person and if that is to be assessed, well you all tell me. How does he read?

I digress, by January I was all but ready to be done with all things My Past. I’d long gotten rid of his hanger on belongings (most left in those 5 trash bags), no pictures exist anywhere outside of those that contain my Bonus Son, and large ticket items purchased with my coin, well technically those belong to me. Trust me when I tell you I’ve never once reached out to The Anti-Husband since the separation that wasn’t about the divorce apart from letting him know about his lingering legal issues that I didn’t want at my doorstep. I wonder, did he pay those tickets himself? The world may never know.

But what says you Faithfuls, how do you deal with grief and loss? I’m a get rid of all the reminders to start fresh kind of girl but as you can see the city is on some bullshit. Do you keep mementos of the past? Do you communicate with Your Past? Why or why not? How can you tell if someone loves you? Is it their declaration or do you need actions? Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb. As always there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

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What You Want Ain’t Always What You Need

Posted on June 16, 2021 by faithsju243
I mean it only makes sense.

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

Enough pressure applied to coal creates diamonds and in similar fashion from some of my deepest moments of discomfort, have come my largest blessings. Despite my together forever but not really’s destructive demise it is not without lessons learned. For every rainbow formed rain fell before it. From all of this I’m taking away stones. Some pure gems that shine light on a life I envisioned before but hesitated to grab and others are coals I’m applying pressure to that will one day convert to diamond shaped blessing. Through it all I shared with you that my tongue despite its current temperance was, is, and will probably always be a touch vicious. I declared my own vanity. A level of conceit based on accomplishments and an underlying belief that I’m able to fix it all. My total ignorance/ inability to see My Past for his works because my barometer for ain’t shit only had one setting. And that even in moments of pure personal pain I seek helping others before myself because I was taught my responsibility to others is more important than their responsibility to me. None of those were easy truths to admit or splash across this interweb. My Past presents as an easy villain. His own words sign his indictment but if that were entirely accurate my casting would be hero when I feel nothing of the sort. That’s a marvel universe or a trip into the 90’s era dope boy dreams that fascinate The Nino Brown of Sugared Beverages. I live in the realness of today. Truthfully, we both lost and won, for different reasons.   

If you take nothing else from what’s on these pages, know that marriage and any real relationship worth its goal’s hashtag is fucking hard work. It remains the hardest challenge placed before me. My scorecard sits on a shelf marked incomplete and stings like failure. Even knowing that failed marriages don’t mean failed people, it feels a way. One of these days when the court finalizes all the paperwork, I get put into the pile with half the population that couldn’t cross the finish line. I must remind myself that, I hate group projects, and this is not a competition. But I digress, it’s difficult. I woke up each day for almost a decade thinking about a team that for me didn’t actually exist, however, that is the mindset of a truly married person. Your moves are not your own. Everything has exponential possibility, positively and negatively, multiplied by the number of people involved. It’s even harder with kids. Marriage isn’t a game for the weak…no weak minds, weak hearts, or weak wills. All increase the likelihood of destruction. And if for some reason you hit the lottery of all three expect complete and utter chaos. Teamwork does make the dreamwork, but the fucking team needs to exist.

My Past in all his assholery, deceit, lack of regard, and pure disrespect is just a person. Somewhere along the line I know I forgot that despite his title husband he is just a human trying to figure shit out for himself but fucking up in the process…just like me. We failed at teamwork. Part of the marriage equation is solving for how two people can live as one while still maintaining themselves. Here’s where both of us flopped. I promise we never walked in tandem. Teams typically plot out how they work, we never did. There weren’t any conversations about how to get to where we needed to go. Essentially, we were winging the shit, hoping whatever existed between us would guide us through. And on some level foolishly believing that because we both wanted a family neither saw growing up meant we knew what the other envisioned for the future. We discussed it abstractly but never tangibly. Never in a way that gave any insight into how we would get to where we needed to go. If I’m being honest, neither of us vocalized if where we were going was even where we both wanted. I’m positive now we see our future lives completely different. And while marriage is about compromise it is impossible to do that if your charted courses have nothing in common. Not only that, neither of us possessed the tools needed to merge the paths.

It could be that we never saw it done. We simply had nothing in our mental banks to emulate or check our own shit against. One of the ways I’ve thrived in my professional life is finding someone who can mentor me. No one or couple existed in my life space to fill that needed role in marriage. Emulating any combination of the relationships I witnessed getting to my big age meant raging or running. Typically, women rage after allowing so many microaggressions to build without addressing them head on they lash out in ways that tend to be personally or possession destructive. Men run when things aren’t fun anymore to other people who provide the 20% the significant other stopped or never displayed. Outside of a slice of marriage counseling where I bore witness to couples fighting against the typical but still mostly actively pursuing them too, I felt depleted. It felt like no one’s doing this shit right. And not for nothing all the people I usually turn to for guidance were either equally unsuccessful or never even dipped their foot in the pool of fully humble transparent love.

I felt alone in my struggle and the one person who should have been the friend I lean on, wasn’t. That was illuminating to me. My Past was never my friend. In the middle of the storm that revelation brought with it the deepest hurt. I forged friendships; I mean deep lasting bonds with some of the dopest people on this planet. They are my chosen family. They are the ones who poured and continue to pour life back into a wounded me and I love each of them now with a little more tenacity for it, which honestly, I didn’t know was possible.  The diligence and basic weeding out of Incompletes pales in comparison to the ease I allowed for My Past. As silly as it sounds it never dawned on me that he needed to pass that rigor. We needed chemistry and that bit of intangible mojo was supposed to get us through it all. Let me tell you something about chemistry…that shit fades, changes over time, and can be flat out obliterated when your eyes are open to who is really in front of you. That isn’t me saying forget chemistry, but it is me saying make sure the person passes the friend test as well. There are places in a relationship that chemistry cannot heal, and only true friendship possesses the power to resolve. You cannot chemistry your way out of broken promises.

The annihilation of something once held so dear shines light on where I fell short, need more work, and what I will never allow to happen again. But what says you Faithfuls, what have you learned from losing a significant other? Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb. As always there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

P.S. If you like this installment or any that you’ve read before you should thank My Past. I fully intended to hold back until after the ink dried on our divorce paperwork. Then I woke up in early January to a message that read, “Whether u want to admit it or not we loved each other once…and the way my heart is set up…that love is forever. I don’t mean to upset you I just want u to recognize the truth. I failed yes…But u brought out my best. Salute to a true Queen…Shawty u the shit.” Followed by 10 pictures from our past and then this message, “I’m sorry I had no real point to this. I clearly was just thinking of u…I’m looking forward to reading your blog. I hope ur well.” I wonder if he’s enjoying it?

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The Marriage Killing Trifecta

Posted on June 2, 2021 by faithsju243

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

After the dust settled at the close of 2020, I had a lot of time to reflect on how our together forever but not really came to a crashing holt.  If you’re true to this, you’re screaming about colorful memories I detailed on these e-streets to get us here. They shine light on the circumstances however underneath the happenings sit the cancer that rotted our relationship at its core…careless communication, flawed finances, and subpar secks. The romantics among you want me to talk about love and love exists as the glue that binds folk together formidably, but the foundation of any romantic relationship needs to involve the three-legged stool, or the glue has nowhere to reside. What stands out even more in our together forever but not really, the entire trifecta rested on my back. I get it, I’m naturally what some might call an Alpha. In most facets of my life, I’m required to run shit. But what if I told you that wasn’t what I needed in my home. If I’m being honest, I don’t agree with the moniker Alpha because it implies an invisible hierarchy that I never subscribed to. Partnership should be a love language instead My Past fought my natural talents, resisted my strength, and disregarded where I required him to stand tall. He behaved as a Beta when I needed a complimentary Alpha.

Once the downhill motion of a relationship’s finality picks up speed it becomes quite hard to redirect. My stifled tongue owns a small portion of our ultimate collision. Oftentimes I held back what I needed to say. I witnessed his fragility and sidelined my directness to avoid hurting feelings because I know he lacked the ability to handle critique. It is not mean I repeat IS NOT FUCKING MEAN to call out the bullshit. True, cradle it with grace but it’s absolutely necessary to say it. And if it comes out wrong, apologize for how you said the thing but don’t keep it caged. We all require supportive tongues but sideline cheering your partner who’s actively chasing chaos breeds discontent and bottom line everyone does not deserve a trophy all the time. Your partner in crime should be able to tell you, your shit stinks, respectfully. I don’t have enough bricks for the walls I hit trying to effectively break through to My Past.

After a while I gave up trying to find new ways to say the same thing. I admit to not knowing how to deliver the messages needed in a way he could receive them simply as constructive criticism and not indictments, so I stopped altogether.  I never yelled or invoked the trauma of name calling because I knew and respected My Past’s triggers…but I know how to serve condescension with ease. It oozes from my mouth as easily as hello to a stranger, sometimes without even noticing. I fucks with sarcasm heavy. I know this about myself and for the entirety of our time I worked hard to pull it back. Truth is, at times I failed and probably more often than I care to admit. But toward the end when love no longer bound us, I didn’t care to avoid it. That is my wrong and I take full accountability for it. No one deserves a respect-less tongue and I’m sure there are moments when My Past felt this from me.

As much as I didn’t want to hurt his feelings even after the 2018 impossible ask truthfully…I flat out didn’t and presently have no respect for My Past. I opened my eyes each day to a child at best. It created a sense of emotional, physical, and sexual detachment. I found it impossible to perform the way attracted people do when none existed. Another thing I kept to myself for fear of throwing a dagger that would wound My Past deeply. There is very little way to make your body do what your heart doesn’t want. And not for nothing secks was the last place I wanted to be Alpha. Asking him to stand up in this area felt like he never knew me, like he’d never touched me. Every encounter with him felt foreign. Imagine my surprise/horror/sadness kissing my husband and feeling dead inside. I’d hear Tamia’s playing in my head waiting for him to quickly finish.

Pop quiz
Tell me where we first kissed
Tell me where my spot is
Tell me if I liked it, loved it
Or could it be
That the stranger is me?
Have I changed so drasticlly?
Is it I want more for me?
And you remain the same

It took a while to figure out
You can’t be who you say you are
You gotta be someone else
‘Cause he wouldn’t touch me like that
And he wouldn’t treat me like you do
He would adore me, he wouldn’t ignore me
So I’m convinced there’s a stranger in my house

What stands out most in these lyrics, maybe the stranger was me. Not only did I want more for me I deserved more. The 2018 impossible ask shone a long-ignored light, that as long as I would allow it, My Past would never grow out of infancy. I remember attempting to help him with his finances and saying flatly, if you don’t have enough money to cover your basic needs, you’re going to have to find a second job. As Marine OG would say, oatmeal is better than no meal. My Past responded by saying that he was above working a second job…clearly his bank account felt differently. Carrying the relationship financially wasn’t entirely an issue. I recognized that ability and opportunity placed us in different spaces in our lives. Additionally, I fully supported his dream of being a chef, hell I gifted him 8 years of cushion. I could swallow that he was never going to accomplish his dream. It was the total disregard for the responsibility of our family. Where was the care? It was unimaginable that an adult man proudly walked around gloating on a life a woman curated. It’s the absence of partnership for me. He lacked the tenacity of an Alpha.

If we subscribe to outdated gender roles, My Past should have been wearing an apron and had my dinner ready when I walked in the door. Respectfully, how do you tell a grown in age man he emotes and behaves femininely? I didn’t and still don’t have the words to not make this hit as an insult. Generally speaking, a man eventually pisses standing up. It’s true my barometer could be off, I grew up with a man who loved in sweet nothings, fists, gifts, and harsh words yet this never stopped him from doing what men do, PROVIDE FOR THEIR FAMILIES.  At the very least I needed to feel The Anti-Husband’s PROTECTION. FUCK effort…instead I was walking alone. Supporting your man eventually becomes carrying a child when dreams don’t match ambition. Outside of eating organic veggies and keeping his car clean, I can’t tell you what motivates My Past. Most other men I know rank family, money, and pu$$y high, but The Anti-Husband squandered all three. Resentment and on a real level disgust loosened the love binding the trifecta. I cannot love a man I don’t respect. And once the glue dissolved none of the legs were strong enough to stand alone so our together forever but not really completely collapsed.

On some level I do not blame him for leaving because there was no reason to stay. Intent versus impact is the real issue…sometimes it’s the how you do things not the what you do. But what says you Faithfuls, what three things do you believe keep a romantic relationship thriving? Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb. As always there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment where I share lessons learned.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

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Wasted Talent

Posted on May 19, 2021 by faithsju243
“The saddest thing in life is wasted talent, and the choices that you make will shape your life forever.”
Photo credit – https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d4/39/ba/d439baa7fc7e82528403de43821812a4.jpg

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

As we round the corner on the end of last year, a year that brought revelation in many ways, Faithfuls we must finish what we started. Duty obligates me to give you the Anti-Husband’s final section of his last letter to me in 2020. We ended the prior installment with my betrayal of his feels, his words. What he received as judgment was simply an admission of the obvious, selling marijuana infused juice makes you a liquid street pharmacist…potentially on your way to something legal(ish) but a drug dispenser none the less. That is not a judgment, but a fact. Another fact, I get to decide who and what I want sharing my life space, no tea no shade. Where I’d like to go and what I see for my future didn’t include him, street Kool-Aid or not. Being honest the drug dealer moniker was true but easier than saying I think you’re a child with delusions of manhood who possess no ability to see the right decision even if it were butt naked in your face dancing. See that’s hard to say to someone, especially someone who’s feelings you’ve guarded for almost a decade. In hindsight I’d done him a serious disservice. He left thinking more of himself than was there.

If by chance you missed any part of My Past’s final words, I suggest starting here. However, if you’ve been sipping this all along, drink up before it gets cold.

…I saw how much added stress and pressure I put on you, and instead of stepping up, I ran. Not because I didn’t want to be with you, but because I finally realized I needed to discover and work on me. I didn’t want that process to further the issues of our home and your struggles. As far as the other women I spoke about, where it was disrespectful to say that to you, I felt and believed it was a part of the growth process. I’m sure that our failing sex life added to that, but I need you to know that I never stepped out on you while we were together. However the ups and downs of these past few months have taught me that the life of a bachelor is nothing more than another distraction and in order to grow I need to be alone and focus inward.

You claim that I never loved you, and the descriptions above definitely are evident of why you feel that way. However that also couldn’t be further from the truth. The sacrifices I made to be with you, whether they were the ones you needed or not, were real. I gave up my life dream of a family with multiple children because I wanted you to be my wife. I gave up who I was at my core in an attempt to be what u wanted me to be because I wanted you in my life. In many ways doing so made me a better person, but also it added stress and perceived judgement to other relationships with ppl who are also important to me. Even with that I put my cares to the side, simply because I wanted to be with you. If that’s not love than I don’t know what is. Was it love in the language u speak or actions u need, no, but it is undeniably love nonetheless. 

In closing, I want you know that I cherish our time we had together. I’ll always remember the love we shared all the sacrifices you made to be with me, and all the lessons you taught me. I apologize for all the hurt, pains, perceived disrespect, and stress I caused you. I hope you find true happiness and the love you deserve. You’re beautiful inside and out, you’re extremely intelligent and even more caring. You deserve the world and I apologize for not giving it to you. Whether you respond to this or not isn’t my concern, I just hope you’re able to receive my purpose and intent in this message. I failed you, but I do love you, yesterday, today and forever.

Peace and blessings 

Love your husband… 

First, it’s impossible to love someone outside of their love language. I firmly hold true that love is an action word. My Past’s movements failed to match his words so not only is he a liar, he’s someone who performed loved but didn’t display it. Being with an actor gets old. Eventually costumes slide back into closets and the person beneath the mask is who remains. Once his mask fell, I saw him for who and what he is, no perceived disrespect just actual. I can’t tell you the number of people, his family included, who said they couldn’t understand why I was with My Past. I defended often and sometimes laughed with them in the moment because I thought it jest, yet truth exists in the best jokes. After a while I began to see what they already knew. At best he was a child, and at worst they knew The Anti-Husband to be a self-absorbed bum (his words not mine).  

Secondly, I never denied him a life without children. I thought I made it perfectly clear very early in the relationship, if having more kids was his ministry, he would have to make the choice to leave me. Pull the band aid quickly but leaving would be a must. It might hurt us both momentarily, but some things are non-negotiable. That I can respect. However, for the sake of imagination, let’s play out children. Would a baby make him keep a job? It hadn’t thus far. Would a baby transform his lying tongue? Would he morph into a man that shows his son how to walk the world with honor, loyalty, respect, dignity, and integrity? Would he build legacy to provide for his progeny? No proof exists that any of this is true today, and if history is the best prediction of the future, what would another kid do besides glorify and put on display his failures. Even if my ovaries screamed for planting, why would I ever help create life with My Past? The man whose trauma runs so deep he can’t understand peace instead he seeks to replicate and inflict his hurt on others in real time.

And even if I believed his words, kids ain’t why he asked to separate. Not for nothing he didn’t even leave to find himself. I wish that was actually the truth. My Past buried his real motives in a bunch of language that still reeks of assholery. He left so he could “inner act” with other women and I hope it was worth it. He all but admitted it wasn’t. And that’s unfortunate because he could have captured that fantasy by himself in a napkin and came to the table with the real.  Miss me with the bullshit. Trust my soft landing has been amazing. I feel lighter on my feet because I lost a 260lb or more load of wasted talent. And we all know, “the saddest thing in life is wasted talent and the choices we make will shape our life forever.”

But what says you Faithfuls, in totality did this ring apologetic? Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb. As always there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

Oh and if you’re interested in my levels of toxicity…we are all works in progress. Here’ my actual response to his email.

Hey Nino Brown of Sugared Beverages,

I hope writing this email brought you some closure and comfort. Truth be told our relationship died for me well before 2020. If I’m being honest, I knew the night before the wedding. It’s insane when you ask for a sign and God gives you one, but you’re too stubborn to listen.  It’s water under the bridge at this point. 

Take Care,

Your Ex Wife 😊

Was this bitchy?

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Fake Apologies, Bad Secks, & The Good Place

Posted on May 13, 2021 by faithsju243
Speaks for itself. Photo credit – https://graciousquotes.com/karma/

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

Before digesting the next portion of My Past’s final words it’s good to note that we see the world very differently. While I see things, most often, very matter of fact, My Past paints in colors of delusion and oftentimes complete oblivion to what’s actually taking place. In addition to missing or ignoring key details, he assigns negativity to events that the everyday person would never see. If you read the last post, he alludes to this, his mental capacity does not allow him to understand how someone can possess an emotion and it not mean anything about him and when it does mean something about him, he ignores. Some might call this narcissism, but I’m only licensed in sarcasm, so I’m not equipped to diagnose. I say that to say that there are huge swaths of time during our relationship where I was visibly unhappy, clearly angry, and borderline calling it quits from late 2018-2020 before the bridge incident that signaled, this shit done, that he only processed through my lack of secksual enthusiasm. Not to mention I can count at least 4 very serious conversations during that time where I verbally told him as much. One did include asking him to leave which I rescinded almost immediately because I didn’t think sending a man of a certain age to sleep on relatives’ couches was kind. Filed under no good deed goes unpunished.

If you didn’t read the first part of his letter, it probably makes sense to sip that tea, before taking this gulp.

This time last yr I think we were in a really good place, but then 2020 happened and from week 1 things took a turn for the worse. We talked about working on our communication as well as our sex life, however with your mom’s health, covid, and the addition of your sister to our home those things got pushed to the back burner and the small issues grew. Please don’t misunderstand me I don’t blame ur sis being there as a cause for this, however it is undeniable that it added to the stress on our relationship. If for no other reason than we weren’t free to fully be ourselves in our home. Or at minimum I didn’t feel I was.

Whether it was projected thoughts or actual happenings, I felt the pressure of added watching eyes and judgement, and never addressed it. Then when I left the restaurant I felt inadequate as a man/the man of the house in the sense that I wasn’t providing or at minimum contributing financially.

You have said multiple times that I asked you to invest in a restaurant that I didn’t care about. That statement can’t be any farther from the truth. Where I do recognize that the request was selfish and entitled, I saw it as asking you to further invest in me. I absolutely cared about the restaurant and believe it was extremely evident in my stress and frustration about how things were going. However I recognize that asking you that was selfish and disrespectful, especially since I hadn’t proven responsible in the past.

After leaving the restaurant and being stuck in the house with 2 responsible working women, I felt lost I felt like a bum, I felt worthless. Then I decided to push forward and start the pop-ups which you fully supported me in and I thank you for that,. You always supported from day 1 with any and everything I did, even the edible business the 1st time around. You even went as far as procuring business from coworkers and friends. So you have to understand how much of a shock to my system it was when you judged me as a drug dealer this past summer. Followed by you asking me to leave multiple times stating that you didn’t know if our marriage was where u wanted to be. I felt what you probably felt for majority of our relationship, betrayal, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I was hurt.

See the thing about apologies that don’t work for me are the ones draped in lies of omission. I’m not even going to waste your time or mine addressing those. It’s almost laughable not in a ha ha kind of way that he typed, this time last year we were in a good place. Remember coloring in delusion. If memory serves me just the year before he gifted me his arrest on my birthday. Maybe in his mind, lying to my face and surprising me with policia exists in the realm of love. Could be those emotions he’s reading incorrectly or ignoring. Pretty loud and oh so clear there was nothing about the year before Covid that spoke to a good place. Hell, my family was planning an intervention. But since he felt right in his spirit about it and feeling are always “valid” let’s recap, this year also included My Past’s singular decision to abandon his day job and neglect all financial responsibility. Followed by the painful removal of my Bonus Son from our space after a falling out with his ex…nope not screaming good place…although I might be the one catastrophizing everyday life events. Maybe in normal healthy good place relationships your spouse gets arrested, abandons all responsibility, lies to your face, dismantles relationships, and still expects bedroom pomp and circumstance. Honestly 2019’s chaos was on high. I was beyond happy to end the year…that was before I knew what 2020 had in store.

With 2019’s shenanigans on our back let’s bounce into 2020. If you’re new here take this opportunity to read about the weed juice empire, leaving me to care for my ailing mother, and wanting to “inner act” with other women. Respectfully, WHERE THE F*CK DOES HE SEE A GOOD PLACE? I might suggest at some point we thought working to get back to a good place was a thing. I admit to trying everything I knew to do to fix it. Hell, I even purchased a wig thinking maybe if I could get out of my own head, I might be able to make my lady parts work again…since this seemed to be the only conversation he cared to bring to my doorstep. Truthfully, I appreciate feeling off kilter with LSTS living in our home. But let’s tell the truth and shame the devil, all My Past’s behaviors while my sister was in our house were the same behaviors he displayed before her arrival. The difference, someone who held no obligation to keep his secrets saw him for who he really is…a selfish, disrespectful bum, his words not mine.

Because karma catches up with people differently, I wonder how that sliver of hurt and betrayal he felt for the nano second before our final walk is marinating in his spirit? I have years of eating betrayal he laced as love, so he can absolutely miss me with the bullshit. But marriage isn’t a competition in hurt, and this is an apology. Faithfuls, we owe it to finish out the last part of his letter, you know letting My Past finish speaking his peace to what was it again, bring comfort, closure, understanding, and accountability.  As always there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment. Any who speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

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Comfort, Closure, Understanding & Accountability

Posted on May 5, 2021 by faithsju243
This one hits different.
Photo Credit – https://pics.me.me/future-sav-commando-remysosav-we-really-gonna-end-the-decade-67215993.png

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

Anniversaries felt odd to me prior to meeting My Past. Before, they existed as arbitrary dates with ascribed feels that represented a thing that happened to us, sometimes by chance and other times by force. This could also be the emotionally detached person in me that didn’t understand the significance because I never witnessed a celebration of love this way growing up. Truth be told my first anniversary with My Past I mixed up the dates. Not that I didn’t remember the significance of the day or that I didn’t already have a gift planned and ready because I did (I love giving gifts) I screwed up the actual date because of the colliding holiday. We started our together forever in November on Thanksgiving the year we met. So, in my mind I’ve always associated Thanksgiving, my second favorite holiday, with our story. It’s also why it was so very important for me each year to bring the best of our families together to celebrate. Following the split, it was the hardest time for me, his absence was fine, but the collective family I crave was gone. I miss them intensely, but I recognize that I am just a plus 1 and he is theirs forever. But to the point, anniversaries are interesting, and today happens to be my 3rd wedding anniversary.

God continues his comedy show. In the spirit of “celebrating” our union it only makes sense to hear from The Anti-Husband in his own words. This letter felt more composed…one might call it a true apology. It does get to some of the why I asked about last installment even if there’s a bit of blame game happening. It’s always easier to couch our short comings in someone else’s behavior. Because I care I’ll break it into sections

“Good afternoon I hope this email finds you well.

I’ve been doing some reflecting the past few weeks. I wanted to pass some of the relative thoughts on, in hopes that it will bring some comfort, closure, understanding, and accountability to our history.

I’ve realized how my thoughts and mental health have been a hindrance to me throughout my life, and subsequently our marriage. As I’m certain you already know this, I still wanted to take the time to accept responsibility for it and point out some of the instances and areas where I should have put forth better effort.

I recognize that at minimum in this past yr I selfishly received your hurt, worry, and pain as negative feelings towards me. Instead of being there and being strong for you when you were in a weakened state, I added to that stress by bringing more negative energy into the home. Where I know that a lot of that stemmed from a lack of communication because you are so strong and hid your emotions. I never took the time to learn how to break through that barrier, and instead I allowed you to deal with your hurt on your own while also asking you to help me deal with mine. For that I apologize. 

When we 1st met I used to tell you that I wanted to make you happy and protect you from hurt and pain. I used to ask you all the time what was wrong and how I could help, your response was always nothing, or “stop asking me that because its annoying”. So I stopped asking and I allowed you to push me away and continue to deal with things on your own instead of recognizing that this was one of the main areas I should have leaned in more as I believe it would have strengthened our relationship and journey. So when the time came where you actually needed me I had know idea how to handle that responsibility because I didn’t recognize the lessons that would have equipped me to do so.

I never took the time to learn how to love you bcuz I took your strength and projected it as negative thoughts against me. I should have accepted the uncomfortability of needing to force those difficult conversations that would have given me the understanding to not only hear but pick up on the small and large direct but mostly indirect hints of your needs. I think I saw your strength and subconsciously allowed it to cause me to ignore your distress calls. 

Over the years you’ve definitely told me what u need me to do better, but I selfishly didnt listen or apply myself to correct my behavior. Whether it was because I believed you to be strong enough on your own, or because I was irresponsible. I miss handled your heart and emotions. There are no words that can express how deeply apologetic I am for that, but I hope you know it is 1 of my biggest regrets…”

If he had ended the letter here, I would have called to have a conversation with him. But since we know he didn’t, neither did I. In this I’m reminded vividly of the man I married. The person who brought out emotion in me that I never knew existed. I can admit to being type A, rigid, and sometimes inflexible in my expressions. Not because I don’t feel, I’m a bottler, but because I’m selective in who gets to see me, who I am is a privilege that everyone is not allowed. Even in my marriage there were places that My Past never reached. Partially because of the lack of security he provided. And the other part is just my nature, I don’t know that I have the capacity to allow a partner to know me that well. Remember, I saw the rawest levels of Wander Bread exploited by Marine OG, the depths of those betrayals I possess no ability to handle, and I have no desire to try.

Hey Faithfuls, admittedly a work in progress. So, My Past is right. I buried myself in myself, that is my security. I always wanted to be my best for him. Most of the nothings in my response were just that, shit that was going on at work, minor annoyances that didn’t warrant conversation, and generalized introvert I need my space even in this together. And while I know that not in the beginning but definitely in the middle, I voiced all of these things – I also know he didn’t listen. He received every part of emotion that was not positively bubbly as an afront to him, hell he made it about him, he allowed it to define him because of insecurity. And ultimately, he took it out on me.

Faithfuls, know there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment and the second half of this letter. My Past was always one to equate signs to dates and numbers, what do you think it means that this blog posting happens on our wedding anniversary and we signed divorce paperwork on our actual relationship anniversary? I don’t necessarily hold those same thoughts, but it is ironic but not in a ha ha sort of way. Any who speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

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The Toll of Giving – Unspoken Words

Posted on April 29, 2021 by faithsju243
Don’t worry I won’t respond.
Photo credit – https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/001/684/766/0c7.jpg

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

Covid conditions exacerbated my already collapsing marriage. It exists as the perfect storm of fucked up that layered onto our brokenness. With time to think without being caught in the rapture, I acknowledge my performance of wife, absent the spirit, after the California highway ask. To really be in it, you have to really be in it. I’d file my time between late 2018 and the 2020 bridge fiasco as faking it until I made it.  By the time Covid crippled outside, I was already half out so that means I was also only half in. My Past knew this. During a roof top conversation after yet another blow, I acknowledged my 50%, that I felt weighed down and overcrowded by all his stuff. What didn’t leave my lips was how overwhelming the responsibility of our entire life felt. How hollow his efforts rang and that I no longer saw him as a man. I just couldn’t say it. My Past lost the one thing I needed to stay engaged, my respect. It became challenging to see him as my person. Instead, all the imperfections I allowed love to sideline came thundering to the forefront. That last time on the roof where he again promised to do better…I knew he wouldn’t.

While I provided a safe space or a dumping ground depending on how you view it for all of his shit, I had no such thing. His presence was thorny, I left cut from each encounter with no time to heal before his next strike. Cut after cut after cut left me spiraling. From birthday arrests to sloppy drunk nights where he stumbled in late or couldn’t find his way home, he left no trigger untouched. I was constantly walking on uneven ground. His instability made it impossible to find reassurance in his arms, his words, or his presence. It all felt…hollow.  An emptiness surrounded all of our interactions that left me unsure of myself in a way I’d never experienced. More walls grew and I turned inward even more. It began impacting all of me, my health declined – I never shared. My weight increased – I didn’t care. My only refuge was work and then covid removed the purity of that outlet.

At times I wondered if his poor behavior stood as a test, to see how much bullshit I’d consume before breaking under its weight. Men always say they want women who weather storms with them, so I started thinking, this was his way of testing my loyalty. But when had my actions spoke doubt? When had I shown him that I didn’t have his back? When had I betrayed trust, love, respect, or demonstrated that when it became tough, I’d run? Even in my half in half out I still showed up. Granted I told him squarely to his face I had no intention of being married to the Nino Brown of Sugared Beverages. Absent this he had no catalogue of tortured memories to pour over with friends showcasing my ain’t shit-ness. All I ever asked for was a responsible partner who considered my feels. Hell, I never even asked him to provide. I asked him to be kind, to live up to his words or stand accountable for being a liar.

When I received the initial divorce paperwork from my lawyer, I breathed a sigh of relief that My Past and I don’t share anything or anyone that keeps us bound. We’d break clean and I’d be free to fully and completely close The Anti-Husband chapter. Standing on my landing after picking up a pair of left behind sneakers he asked if we were really doing this without having a discussion. Funny I thought he’d been quite loud in his conversation to that point in late September, however, I said that if he had more to say by all means because I didn’t. He eyeballed me for a couple of seconds, maybe because I was fresh off my workout or because he needed to find his words, but he proceeded to say that he wasn’t going to keep apologizing for shit and wanted to know if we could still be friends. I told him that all my friends are people of character and integrity of which he has none so I didn’t see how it would be possible nor why it made sense for me. He responded by asking for a hug. I recoiled with such disgust I’m sure it echoed on my face and said absolutely not. I no longer had to perform wife and it felt good.

Ironically or because God remains the funniest comedian, we signed paperwork to close out what never should have been on our anniversary in late November. I remember pulling up to the Starbucks and thanking him for being agreeable to letting me go my way. He responded by saying, Happy Anniversary.  I paused, gathered the papers, and drove away. Maybe I should have said same to you? But I legit had nothing to say. People ask me all time if we speak and are shocked to know we don’t. Back tracks aren’t in my ministry. When I needed an ear to listen, he gave an ass to kiss, so for me all I really want to know is why? Some questions will forever remain unanswered. Before the close of the year, he sent his second dissertation in letter form, you know to set the record straight. We’ll tackle that in the next couple of installments. But what says you Faithfuls, do you have any unanswered questions between you and your past? If so, what are they? Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

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Walls I Built

Posted on April 21, 2021 by faithsju243
This speaks for itself.
Photo credit – https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ0XwBz13kXytvmktfyX_ATs_yOvS-tUVM_zw&usqp=CAU

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

Faithfuls, last we spoke I started down a road I must finish walking. In order to fully understand how I let go of 8 years of together forever but not really with no fight, you need to start at the very beginning of my divorce. On paper, the divorce began August of 2020 but in actuality the split began sooner for me. Petty me blames a planning spirit that kept my feet planted firmly within a marriage when my heart pumped lukewarm. All I’s needed dotting and T’s needing crossing before ripping the band aid off a situation-ship that no longer served its purpose. Plus, I owed My Past the diligence of care filled thought, a decision that unearthed our footing made hastily screamed irresponsibility. At my big age, recklessness no longer yields laughter, that’s a space owned by young adult tomfoolery. But hesitation held me hostage, dying from a thousand tiny cuts delivered by a person who claimed to love me. Don’t follow my lead.  If I were a smarter woman less scared of the failure of a thing, ending our together forever but not really should have happened the year of our actual marriage, 2018…possibly sooner.

I should have known since May 4th, 2018 approximately 9PM ET that The Anti-Husband wholly intended on letting me walk alone in this world despite our couple-ness. Standing in toilet water should have triggered, yes girl the shit does stink. Not that I needed a rude awakening really, the wedding itself was a testament to why we didn’t work. If honesty is a thing and it is, My Past’s value adds to our wedding included creating an unnecessary disagreement between our families (a gossiping man is anything but attractive), a request for a custom suit, and losing his best man just days before the ceremony. Salute to the Former Best Man for sending a very heartfelt apology text to let me down easy. We don’t have time today to unpack these stories. Just know that I take full accountability for any words or actions that caused pain, anger, hurt, or animosity surrounding the nuptials. All I wanted was our day, but impact is greater than intent.

To the point, walking alone despite our couple-ness – I have for the life of our relationship felt alone. This comes as no surprise to My Past. We spoke about it a number of times. This alone-ness I felt/feel was not specific to my marriage as much as it’s specific to me. Since a very young age, possibly when my parents checked out of active parenting, and I stepped in to loosely raise my siblings, the loss of parental cover left me ALONE. I don’t know how else to describe it. Transitioning as an adolescent into the oversized shoes of adulthood comes at a cost. For me it meant understanding that everyone designed to have my back, will not. It was and is my responsibility always to care for those left in my charge and what scraps remained, were for me. My Past was the exact wrong person to meet given my disposition. Remember he acknowledged his brokenness and craved fixing. His overwhelming need created a charge to care and his inability to give exacerbated the lonely spirit that naturally exists in me. This is not his fault…not entirely.

Takers or people who consume others have no appreciation of the emotional toll paid by givers. It’s impossible almost, think of it this way – extroverts gain energy by surrounding themselves with people vs the introvert who requires solitude to rejuvenate. These dynamically opposed individuals struggle understanding the calling of the other. Same existed with My Past. His capacity to comprehend me fundamentally as a person, sadly didn’t exist and most days I saw no effort to try. Some of the scenarios I described thus far speak to his inability to see or care for me. Regardless of which position selected his impact remains the same.  A person like me, who naturally feels alone, bottles up even more when the person selected to care, just doesn’t. Given my starting point or hell even my expectation that people will not show up for me, his lack of care at times didn’t even register as painful. Instead, I created emotional barriers to protect myself, and I used those walls to shield myself from him. My Past was killing me.

Eventually the walls overtook our together forever but not really and nothing else existed between us but memories and half-hearted apologies. But I told you I would tell y’all what added the brick to a wall so high I saw no way to make it back to My Past. Because I love a birthday, it’s something about celebrating one’s birth that sparks the extrovert that lives deep inside me, I gifted My Past a trip to Cali attached to one of my work events. We planned to ride up the coast to visit Malibu and San Diego. He took majority of the trip visiting dispensaries but honestly when in Rome. This was one of the few times his indulgence didn’t work a nerve. I even took a puff as we coasted along the highway. But like most island summer days, there’s always rain. While riding, taking in the sights My Past told me that the trip to LA was great, he was happy to get away from life, and really put things into perspective. What I expected next was a ramped-up game plan to finally start cooking seriously, one that included maintaining his day job, because bills, but taking the rest of those workable hours to get it going. Instead, he told me that he was quitting his job (another one in my DJ Khalid voice) and he needed me to take the equity out of my home to fund his newest aspiration.

On its face this is not that bad. If you believe in your spouse’s dream financially fronting or supplementing a calculated risk to further the family makes prudent sense. It doesn’t make sense when you’re the sole contributor. It also doesn’t make sense when the entirety of your then 6-year relationship you’ve witnessed your partner in crime squander opportunities, make terrible decisions, and neglect all financial responsibility including but not limited to your household. With a draw of smoke My Past asked me to risk my security blanket, the one place I felt completely safe. Flashes of the sheriff padlocking my doors and ousting me to the streets formed in my mind. For all my works, I’d end up sleeping on my mother’s couch with my HUSBAND beside me. I asked a simple question, what is Plan B, if this somehow falls apart? His response was essentially it won’t fail so there’s no Plan B. I told him this was too much to ask. I’d fronted our entire lifestyle for 6 years and I was hoping now that we were married it would mean he’d take into consideration that his responsibility to me was greater than, babe I’m sorry I spent all the house money. At that moment I realized that no matter how much I gave, even if I pulled the equity in my home, it would never be enough and he would always have another ask, an even larger ask, because he’s a taker.  When I looked him in the eyes, not only did I see a child, but I also no longer saw a man. Neither of those things am I attracted to.

It becomes impossible to perform as a wife when you no longer see a husband. At that moment I knew he would sacrifice me for anything in life if it brought him closer to whatever flight of fancy ran through his convoluted mind. I was as disposable as anyone else. He called me selfish when I said I thought he should revisit this plan. Those words pierced me deep. It removed the forever from our together and I began an emotional divorce that birthday weekend. At the time, I’m not fully sure I knew it. Know there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment. Are you able to pinpoint when you stopped with your ex? Is it a single moment or are there a number of tiny cuts? Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

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A Letter to My Past

Posted on April 14, 2021 by faithsju243
My Past asked to be friends and I told him my friends have integrity and since he had none I couldn’t see us being friends. Photo credit – https://www.lolwhy.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/d874729df4454b086d5aa76b69a9ce25-drap8o.jpg

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

But you’re just a boy
You don’t understand
Yeah, you don’t understand, oh
How it feels to love a girl, someday
You’ll wish you were a better man

You don’t listen to her
You don’t care how it hurts
Until you lose the one you wanted
‘Cause you’ve taken her for granted
And everything you have got destroyed

But you’re just a boy…

King Beyonce said it best, you’re just a boy and you don’t understand. The weight of those words hit differently in 2020. For majority of my together forever but not really, I asked My Past to flex his emotional intelligence. Remember this is a guy who emotes so I thought it would come naturally. On any given day I cycled through the peaks and valleys of his particular feels related to things as simple as a middle school basketball game he felt he coached poorly. It baffled me the level of introspection shown to important in the moment but not life altering happenings. They received the bulk of his emotional capacity.  I never quite wrapped my mind around the disconnect between his ability to intensely feel those moments almost to the point of haunting his movements today but nonchalantly brush off the destruction of relationships and completely ignore the responsibility of husband. But he’s just a boy and he can’t understand what it means to love a girl…one day he’ll try to be a better man. I truly hope My Past begins to give relationships the emotional rigor they require. That he abandons internalized self-doubt built on narratives he created about himself based on what he thinks others think about him. Most days I felt like a therapist. The other days I felt like a mom…when all I really wanted was to feel like a loved wife. But I digress.

Flash back to the beginning, when times were good or more accurately, I was better at ignoring the fires. At the time, I loved the emotion he conjured for the minor goings-on that I misread as passion. I thought, finally I found a man not afraid to be open. He shared his stories. Some funny and others dark that if I were an emoting person, tears would have fallen. Instead, I was taken aback that someone who I didn’t know well would open himself raw in front of me, it made me feel fiercely protective of those stories and acutely responsible for his happiness in a way that resonates with my particular brand of fixing. I came to realize that nothing about him sharing those stories made me special. My Past’s an over-sharer by nature and to maintain space and relevance with people, he must showcase the most endearing pieces of himself. What’s left are pipe dreams, video games, conspiracy theories, and YouTube videos…except his cooking. I will say it again, My Past is the most attractive behind the steam of the stove. That’s where it began and ended for me.

Once he no longer wanted to, all those stories and happiness I felt so responsible for…vanished. I loved the boy with the traumatic past but not the man actively living and, in some ways, pursuing a traumatic life. It cost me more than it was worth. My time with The Anti-Husband was a futile effort in healing the wounded boy in the man. You read his letter, it’s manic and juvenile at best. I came to realize I married a weak-willed man child. That’s my fault. I accept the responsibility of that decision and the hurt it’s caused me and others. I recognize my vanity, my belief so strongly in my ability to fix the broken I ignored the obvious.  I will, however, never take responsibility for My Past’s behavior. But we do know that hurt people, hurt people.

So many of these thoughts swirled in my head through the hazy lens of tequila while sunbathing on a beach in Tulum mid-September. I cried, maybe alcohol induced, at night to avoid recapping all my shit with Nursing Chocolate who said almost verbatim one night, I have no clue why you were with that fat worthless fuck for as long as you were. Looked around the table at the ladies and continued with, y’all need to stop being stupid bitches for these men that are barely that. Can’t pay your way, his way, or no way and have nothing to offer but basic conversation and lazy dick. Do better! This was said with love. Remember he poured into my depleted cups before the trip, this particular advice was laced with island wine, so we received it with no chaser. Not that he’s wrong and I needed to hear that I deserved more than the crumbs. Nursing Chocolate suggested I pen a letter back to My Past; you know free my tongue so long shackled by the obligation of together. I never did write the letter, but I did respond to an impromptu text. And if I were to combine the two efforts it might read something like this:

Dear Nino Brown of Sugared Beverages,

Thank you for the experience. I’m positive you believe you love(d) me but as the saying goes love is an action, it stretches far beyond a thought. It has been clear to me for some time that you don’t have the capacity to love me. Vanity kept me with you, that is my lesson to learn. Hopefully you will do better by the next, recognizing that showing up and doing the work is more important than laughing at jokes. I was foolish to trust your words and ignore your behavior.

You’re a nice person but you’re not kind. Selfishness can’t exist where kindness lives. I’m the opposite and I guess there’s some truth to opposites attracting. As a result, there was always an end date written for us, and it was never forever.

It is my sincerest hope that you gain the ability to actually love someone the way she deserves. I hope it was worth it.

Take Care,

Faith M.

By the close of the trip, I hired an attorney and began the formal process of separating myself from My Past on paper. Trust me, getting into a marriage is far easier than getting out of one. But what says you Faithfuls, when you had time to go over the hills and valleys of your past relationships is there anything you left unsaid to someone? Have you ever felt like you were playing the role of therapist and parent rather than partner? Is that part of the significant other’s ministry…counselor? Know there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment. Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

P.S. This is still a stifled tongue. I struggle with adequately detailing some of the feelings I had about My Past. I never wanted to be a person that caused him pain. We are such different people. For today, while I process how to tell y’all what honestly sits at the center of why I couldn’t give any more know it starts and ends with me not being able to see My Past as a man any longer after his birthday trip to LA in 2018. It unraveled my perception of him and distorted ever seeing him as my husband forever.

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Reach Outs & Tap Backs

Posted on April 9, 2021 by faithsju243
It’s the don’t even reply for me. Photo credit – https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ELHPzEXXsAIvkgV.jpg:large

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

For weeks following the reveal of the cannabis juice empire and an undying appetite for “inner acting” with other women, My Past diligently dialed, texted, and left voicemails. The greater majority I ignored. Truth be told the reach outs and tap backs were just more of the same…how he felt and wondering if I read, heard, or saw the prior messages. Outside of feeling overwhelmed by his seesawing emoticons I also felt deep rooted betrayal. How could you show your entire ass for years, neglect my needs, ignore my pain, toss in some random heauxs for good measure, run off while I cared for my sick mom, and have the audacity to no more than a week after picking up your 5 contractor bags and a funky ass leather sectional leave a message declaring your everlasting love? While it makes no sense to me to ask to leave and stay simultaneously these roller coaster emotional highs and lows were part of My Past’s normal way of being. LSTS asked me if he emoted this much before covid and I said yes, he’s a moody bitch that tells good jokes, so normally I laugh it off and wonder if he cries later by himself.  In hindsight that joke, while horribly inappropriate, was my attempt to compartmentalize The Anti-Husband’s emotional peaks and valleys.

For as much as My Past is new age toxic (someone hugged too much and too little), he’s also a person suffering from inner demons, the panorama, idle hands, internalization of mounting racial tensions, and the overuse of substances. While 202o may have been our relationship tipping point, it broke My Past. I’m sure in ways he’s yet to fully comprehend. Don’t get me wrong he’s KING toxic. He’d send a YouTube video of Song Cry then text me to ask if he still had health insurance. I replied, yes (did that inner acting catch up with him) as long as he had his card…the one he told me he destroyed. Maybe he lied about cutting up joint cards, it would explain why he’s still using my bank account to pay for his audiobook’s subscription, but I digress. My Past exists in the realm of new level toxicity with a splash of pride-less wonder. Because we’re in the trust tree, I’ll give you an example of the tomfuckery dancing across my iPhone at every other day clips through the end of September. Here’s one from the 21st of August that he sent via text and email…you know just in case I missed it.  

“Idk if u blocked me or not but I sent this the other day and wanted to make sure u got it. I hope ur well.

I know I hurt u. I know u probably hate me, and that’s deserved. But I also know there’s no way that 8 yrs of love gets deleted in a week’s time. I miss u I love u, and I want to remain married to u.

Words mean nothin, behavior is the true example. I will show u, bcuz I don’t want to lose u. I meant everything I said in my vows and I kno u did too.

I’m not goin to interrupt ur life or embarrass u by standing outside ur house and lettin the neighbors know what’s goin on.

But I can’t let u go. I love u, and you mean too much to me. I also kno that u love me and we’re better together.”

Short answer, I disagree. This lovely message came with a picture of the two of us sharing a kiss at our wedding. The one I planned and the night before he’d left me standing in toilet water. At that same wedding, he got so wasted he dropped a whole plate of food Mrs. Grumpy Gardener (my brother’s wife) set aside for me when she noticed I hadn’t eaten…I never ate that day…not even the cake. Memories of my wedding open unhealed wounds. It remains painful to know I married a man who’d lose a smooth million if asked to pick out my bridal entrance song. But he said he loves me, Faithfuls. His form of love must operate in opposites because loving someone means showing up. I can’t repeat it enough, men take care of what they love…hell at least walking a dog so I didn’t have to do it at midnight might have suggested he liked me…a little.

Maybe I expected too much. I expected the person who I opened my entire heart to…to love me. I was foolish to believe his words and ignore his actions. Buried beneath my sarcasm, often crowded out by my nonchalance is just a girl who wants to be loved by a boy. And he knew that. It hurts more to get burned by someone who knows your story and promises to never use it against you. Betrayal is a cocktail best served cold. I give him credit; he knows how to play victim and ingratiate the fixer in me with a sob story. Far too often and for far too long I allowed my fixer spirit to see the best in him, to believe his words of effort when all he gave was his ass to kiss. Sometime in September I answered one of his calls. He kept asking if divorce was what I wanted. I gave him a mouthful. I spoke a truth I never let part my lips during the relationship, that through the course of our together I watched him not show up for anyone in his circle and stupidly thought he’d never turn that energy on me. Eggs on my face. I asked him a single question, one he has yet to answer, why should I be with him? In the midst of the pregnant pause that followed, I exhaled and said goodbye.

If any of you are wondering what My Past showed me, you know because the email implies, he actually had some sort of plan to win me back…I’m still waiting too. Honestly hopping on the cannabis wave, on its face, is not a bad idea. The problem is My Past. Anything that requires effort or resembles work, and a tutorial can’t be found on YouTube, miss him. At all turns he runs toward the out-and-out wrong decision. If I’m being honest, dating and ultimately marrying me was one of them. Not because I’m an inadequate partner, quite the opposite, the time The Anti-Husband took up space in my life he wasn’t capable of real love and had no intention of putting in the work necessary to make it thrive, he needed a sponsor of the AA variety but for life. It therefore was wrong not just for him but for me…the result is wasted time, hurt feelings, and a bunch of personal regret (on my side). Even his crawl back is lazy.

To date besides his random reach outs and tap backs that are filled with pictures from our past, messages telling me he just wanted to hear my voice, music videos, Instagram likes, and requests to talk with no follow up…I’ve seen nothing. Not that my position would change. I think I’ve been clear, the bridge was what I needed to give myself permission to let him go. And for clarity, I actively stopped loving and went through the torture of divorcing our spirits well before he told me he wanted to become the Nino Brown of Sugared Beverages. He missed all my signs subtle and overt that his style of love was killing me, or he saw them and didn’t care. Jury’s still undecided.

But what says you Faithfuls, has your most toxic ex done reach outs and tap backs in the hopes of changing your mind? Have you entertained them? I know My Past just wants interaction not to be back in my life. He wants the rhythm but none of the blues. Speak on it in the comments let us know some of the ways your ex has tried to catapult back into your lifespace.  Know there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment. Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.

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