#shoulder. had to call her mom. had to call her ex. paid insane money for the taxi home

[juregim]

this was one of the worst days top to bottom of the last year, and that includes the day i broke 3 bones

[lastbluetardis]

Sweet fucking Jesus, my sister is a trainwreck.

So let’s hop on back to Winter 2017-18 when my sister starts emo posting on Facebook about being upset/pissed/betrayed etc etc etc which, when I asked her about it, she had told me that her boyfriend had made out with another girl, and had fallen in love with this girl. Okay, so I figure she’s breaking up with him, moving out, and potentially moving back in with out mom with her three-year-old daughter.

Alas, when I ask my sister, she says she’s giving her boyfriend another chance. I warned her that once a cheater, always a cheater, but she disregards my advice, saying that she doesn’t want her daughter to be raised in a broken home. Which like... a father who constant cheats and pisses away any money he comes across is considered “unbroken”??? But whatevs.

Let’s hop forward to April 2018 and my sister admits to my mom that she’s pregnant (due at the end of September 2018). I guess all that makeup sex went unprotected? Though later she admits that she was trying to get pregnant again. My sister says that her boyfriend was totally on board with this and wanted another kid, but my sister is a pathological liar, so who the fuck knows. My guess is that she got pregnant again in the hopes that would force her boyfriend to stay/be faithful.

Let’s hop forward again to July-ish, when my sister again starts emo posting on Facebook, and I assume her relationship has tanked once more. But nothing really comes of it so I assume she forgave her boyfriend and they’re continuing to live in unhappy sin together.

Now let’s hop again to Labor Day 2018 (which is like... September 3rd. Keep in mind she’s due with Baby #2 on September 23rd), and she tells my mom that she needs to move back home because her boyfriend wants to live with “the love of his life” (girlfriend 2.0, as my mom and I call her). So my sister is nine months preggo and moving back into my mom’s basement with her four-year-old daughter.

Now, I don’t particularly mind my sister moving back when she needs help. That’s fine and all. But I take issue with the fact that she just assumes my mom will bail her out of her messes, and the fact that my sister had expressed no gratitude whatsoever about moving back home again with a four-year-old and an eventual newborn. It’s like my sister expects the aid.

All right, so the whole point of my sister moving home again was to help her get back on her feet. She worked at a job that pays $11.50 an hour, so after taxes and crap, she’s only bringing home about $400-450 every week. So that’s roughly $2000 per month. There’s no fuckin way she can afford rent and daycare and all the other expenses that comes with existing. So anyhoo, she moved home to save up her money and find a better-paying job so that she could eventually make it on her own (assuming her ex-boyfriend pays child support).

Let’s hop forward to December 2018. My sister at this point found a slightly better paying job, so that’s good, but it starts at 6am and the daycare doesn’t open until 6:30. So my mom’s on daycare drop-off duty. Which, whatever. I wouldn’t have done that in my mom’s shoes, but I’m not in my mom’s shoes.

Anyhoo, my sister eventually starts visiting her ex-boyfriend’s mom’s house all the time. Which I think it a little weird, but my sister has a decent relationship with her ex-bf’s mom, so fine, whatever. But eventually it was getting to be ridiculous. The mom lives a good 45 minutes away, so my sister is pissing away all this money on gas, and keeping her kids out until 9-ish at night, when my mother has to be the one to get them up the next morning for daycare. My four-year-old niece fucking haaaaaates waking up in the mornings. Hates it. And she’s got enough behavioral issues anyway, so while she should be past the temper-tantrum stage, she’s not.

Anyhoo, my mom goes to drop the kids off at daycare one morning and one of the aids mentions to my mom that my sister’s supposedly-ex-boyfriend has been with her when she’s been picking up the kids lately. Which is fuckin weird.

So my mom confronts my sister about whether she is back together with her boyfriend (and I should mention that a stipulation of my sister moving home again was that if she ever got back together with her boyfriend, she had to find another place to live. She and her boyfriend had lived with us for a year back when my sister had her first kid and it did not go well. Her boyfriend is a lazy, manipulative ass, and this on-again off-again relationship they’d had since Winter 2017-18 is not healthy for my sister at all).

My sister says yeah, they’re back together. She even paid the January rent on the apartment that ex-bf and girlfriend 2.0 are living in! (I think it’s so fuckin weird that my sister wants to get back with her boyfriend even while his new girlfriend is living at the apartment...)

So my mom says that my sister needs to be moved out by January 12th. This conversation happened shortly after Christmas. Well, a day or so before New Year’s Eve, my sister tells my mom that she and her boyfriend are not getting back together after all.

In my opinion, my sister should be forced to move out. She got back together with her boyfriend, even if it was only for like a week. But my mom has the biggest fucking heart in the world, and for some reason has this guilt complex that she wasn’t as good of a mom to my sister as she was to me. Which I don’t know where that came from, but my sister loves to rub it in my mom’s face that my mom did more stuff with me than with my sister.

So my mom lets my sister stay.

Fast-forward to today. My sister is evidently back with her boyfriend. Again. My mom is so upset and adamant that my sister has to move out this time. I’ll believe that when I see it.

So yeah. That has been my life for the past four months. And I’ve left out about half of the story because this post is already so fucking long and my hands are cramping.

I’m just so angry and upset. At my sister for manipulating and using my mom like this. At my mom for bending over backwards to try and help my sister. I’m just furious at everything and everyone, and I hate my sister so much. I hate her for not only fucking up my mom’s life but for fucking up her kids’ lives. My sister is a very lousy and lazy parent, and so is her boyfriend. My four-year-old niece has behavioral issues in part because my sister and her bf refuse to discipline her. And my four-year-old niece isn’t toilet trained yet. That’s fucking ridiculous. She turns five in April! And she can’t piss in a toilet! And my niece has really bad eczema that needs to be treated by a child dermatologist but my sister is too lazy to make appointments for her child. My mother made an appointment for my niece and took her back in December, where she was given a prescription. Well guess what. It’s the middle of January and my sister still hasn’t picked up that fucking prescription.

I’m so exhausted from this whole fucking ordeal and I want to scream at my sister until I’m blue in the face. But it won’t fucking help. Any time my mom or I try to talk to her, all we get are blank stares and shrugged shoulders. My sister needs serious fucking counselling. Though I probably do too. I’ve been considering calling the university’s counselling center and getting myself an appointment to see if it will help me deal with this anger I feel all the time.

Good God this has been exhausting to even write about, and I left out so many details. How on Earth did me and my sister even come from the same sperm and egg pool? This is fucking insane and I feel so bad for my poor mom for putting up with all this shit.

[rickstexaschick]

Rick’s Texas Chick: Chapter 8

Originally posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183545/chapters/35229917

In a slow, even voice she told Rick the story.  How they’d met at the hospital where she worked, she a staff nurse, and he a trauma surgeon.  He’d recently immigrated from South America, hired to join the medical school faculty.  They’d met at a happy hour at a nearby pub that catered to the hospital staff, otherwise they probably would have never run into each other at the hospital.

She didn’t ‘do’ trauma, she said, quietly, wrinkling her face in distaste, keeping her eyes closed while she continued talking.

Couldn’t handle the blood, the horrific injuries, the patients’ screams of fear and pain, their family members standing outside the shock room, crying, demanding to know what was happening.  All the chaos and rush, everyone shouting out orders, trying to attend to everything at once.  It always sent up feelings of panic inside her, and she struggled not to give into the urge to burst into tears and run away.  Like she was the one who’d been hurt.  Her advisor in school had told her that that was just a part of her natural empathetic nature, that she’d get over it.  But she never could.

She much preferred dealing with patients once they were sewn up, drugged up, no bones sticking out or intestines spilling out of knife wounds slashed across the gut, and no longer spurting blood or other body fluids out all over the place.

In spite of this, they’d hit it off and were soon dating.  He was so confident, so sure of himself in an emergency and in his skills as a surgeon.  When they first met, she used to go down and watch him in the ER, to watch him in action when a trauma patient came in.  Directing orders right and left, he commanded the room with effortless ease.  He was unmistakable even when he wore a surgical mask: his tall body towered over everyone else, his shock of blue-gray hair visible even as he bent over to administer to a patient.  There didn’t seem to be anything he was afraid of.

By comparison, sometimes he made her job feel dumb and silly.  Her told her that her job just amounted to wiping asses and pushing pills, and she had to agree.  He was everything she wasn’t, and yet he still wanted her.  He was a god, her god, and they were married less than year after they met.

She was quiet for a moment.

She wasn’t young when they’d met, neither of them were---he was 10 years older than she was and divorced.  He never really talked about his past life that much.  Unlike her.  He said he’d left his ex-wife behind in South America so he could start over in the US, where she couldn’t get her hands on anymore of his money. That was as much as he was willing to tell her.  And she believed him.

Her friends urged her to move more slowly.  They didn’t like how he treated her: condescending, arrogant.  Always impatient, always criticizing her, ridiculing her.

She’d defended him. They were misinterpreting it, that’s all.  It was just a cultural thing.

And besides, she acknowledged privately, the way things had been going for her, she’d thought she’d never get married.  She’d be a fool to let this opportunity slip away.

“My mom and dad were soooo happy that I’d found a doctor to marry,” she went on again, quietly.  “Like that was the be all and end all to life…”

More silence.  Rick slowly rubbed her muscles without speaking.

“And boooy, did they love him.  He had them wrapped around his finger.  They thought he hung the fucking moon...

“But after we got married, I couldn’t tell them what he was really like.  I was too ashamed.”

After they married, he discouraged her from maintaining her friendships.  They were all losers, they’d only hold her back, drag her down.  Besides, they didn’t even want her to marry him.  How could she, he asked, stay friends with them after all the bad things they’d said about him?  What kind of person was she that she could do that?  They certainly weren’t welcome at his house---their house, she corrected him.

He’d reached out like lightening and grabbed her hair.  “Who paid for this house, slut?  Who pays the bills around here?  Me, I do.  This is MY fucking house, and they are NOT coming here.  EVER.”

So, she tried meeting them outside of the house: an early dinner, happy hour, always when he was working or out of town, so he wouldn’t know.  But whenever he found out about it he would give her the silent treatment for a week.  It was painful, it was pointless to keep trying.

So, she’d let them all go, one by one.

“And your parents?” Rick asked.

I can’t talk about that, was her cryptic response.

She paused for a moment, then went on, talking about her ex.  Describing how ambitious he was, had huge plans for a successful academic career here in the US.  He was always working towards that end.  He traveled frequently to conferences, accepted invitations to give guest lectures – always for money, of course, with all his expenses paid.  He never did anything for free.  He wrote journal articles, collaborated on textbook chapters with other trauma surgeons from schools around the country, participated in lucrative clinical and pharmaceutical trials...He was always busy, always building his empire.

Because of work, she couldn’t travel with him as much as she would have liked, but he never seemed to mind. In fact, very quickly he’d begun discouraging her from joining him.  He’d suggested that she stay behind, focus on herself, her career.

It was he who’d brought up the topic of her going back to school.  Before that, she’d never really given it much thought.  She’d always been content to continue working as a nurse.

It was an embarrassment to him, he’d said, that she was ‘just a nurse.’  He’d told her this on more than one occasion.  He didn’t like introducing her to his colleagues and professional visitors.  He’d made her feel ashamed of herself, as if she wasn’t worthy of being by his side.

The other doctors’ wives were either doctors themselves, or trophy housewives: involved in Junior League, charities.  More than that, they were always dressed immaculately, hair and nails done, always skinny, never out of shape.  Or, god forbid, fat.

She stopped, and in the quiet den this last word hung in the air over them like a balloon, the unspoken humiliation and shame clung to it like two lead anchors, never allowing it to dissipate and break free from her psyche.

Rick could almost see how they permanently draped around her neck, scarring her, holding her down from ever achieving any semblance of self-respect and happiness.  It broke his heart, hearing her talk about herself this way.

She went on....

She’d known this wasn’t entirely true, she said, but her ex refused to hear her side.  In their marriage, he was always going to be right, and she was always going to be wrong.  Someone had once told her that in marriage, if one had a disagreement with one’s spouse, you had to decide: Would you rather be right or would you rather be happy?

Well, she’d never been either one.  But she had to make the best of it.

So, she tried.  She curbed down the tomboy in herself, stopped working in her garden —hired landscapers.  She wore the expensive clothes, tried to dress and act more femininely for him.  She got her nails and hair done regularly, wore more make-up.  But she hated it.  It didn’t feel like who she really was inside.  And it still wasn’t good enough for him.

It was only then that the truth had begun to dawn on her.

It had nothing to do with if she was a nurse or not.  Not entirely.  She would never be good enough.  She would never, could ever be any kind of ‘trophy wife’ to him, no matter how hard she tried.

Ultimately, it just wasn’t in her nature to be that kind of woman, lead that kind of life.

So, she’d stopped trying to be a trophy, and went back to being just herself.

Just herself, the words echoed in Rick’s head, as he quietly rubbed her shoulders.  As if that was of lesser value than the farce of living your life, struggling to pretend to be something you weren’t, for someone who clearly didn’t give a shit about you except to bend you to his will.

She continued……..After that, her ex resumed his attack on her chosen profession.  He was ashamed to be married to her, she was beneath him as a nurse.  He pressured her to change her profession entirely.  Wanted her to go to med school.

But at that, she had put her foot down, literally.  It only goaded him to try harder.  He pushed and pushed, day after day, wouldn’t let the subject drop.  But uncharacteristically, stubbornly she’d refused to go along with his recommendation, his demands, wouldn’t even entertain the idea.

Finally, during one argument she’d totally lost it.  She stamped her feet to punctuate each word and shouted at him in frustration and anger at his arrogant refusal to listen to her and what her real needs and goals were.   She.Did.Not.Want.To.Be.A.Doctor.  She’d lost he composure.  Screaming, throwing a tantrum almost like a 2 year who didn’t want to take an afternoon nap.  His blue eyes became ice cold.  Losing control of herself like that in front of him was never allowed.  It was something he hated and thought of as a weakness.  It was the biggest fight they’d ever had.

He’d abruptly left her for three days, with no word of where he’d gone or if he planned to come back.  Didn’t return her calls, texts, or emails.  It was like he’d dropped off the face of the earth.

She’d gone almost insane with worry.  Even strayed down to the ER looking for him, where she’d finally learned that he was out of town at a trauma conference.  It was the ER nurse manager who’d told her this on the third day, a look of pity in her eyes as she told her.

Belatedly, she realized what it must have looked like for the wife of one of the trauma surgeons to come looking for her husband, clearly not having a clue that he’d left town.

Left town and taken an ER nurse with him, as it turned out, and not for the first time—but this latter detail she wouldn’t find out until sometime later.

After three days’ absence, he came back home all kisses and light, as if nothing had been amiss.  When she tentatively brought up the topic of school again, he refused to discuss it.  Told her she was a big baby and if she was too afraid to grow professionally, and couldn’t appreciate how he was willing to help her, then he didn’t want to waste his time with her.

She persisted, telling her plans to him.  How she’d compromise, and agreed to return to school to become an NP.  He’d laughed in her face, unimpressed.  He told her she was taking the easy way, settling.  Again.  Just like how she’d ‘settled’ to become a nurse in the first place.

Once again: not good enough.

Undaunted, she’d found a program at a local university which offered dual masters degrees—simultaneously earning two degrees with minimal extra course work, and only one thesis.  She thought this would placate---even impress him, but then she made the mistake of mentioning to him that it would mean she’d have more degrees – and, technically, more education – than he.  Her two bachelors and two masters to his one bachelor and medical degree.  She'd meant it sort of as a joke----of course she knew she'd never be more than he was.  He was a doctor, a renowned trauma surgeon.

But it backfired.  He was always sensitive about his foreign education.  Even more so, his ego refused to accept that she’d ever be any more, any better than he was, and certainly never an equal.  The mockery in his eyes instantly shifted to one of blind outrage.

In his rage and anger, he reached out with one swipe of his long arm and struck her backhanded across the face, violently knocking her to the floor in their bedroom.  His surprise outburst shocked her and she huddled there momentarily, almost knocked senseless.  Gathering her wits while stars swirled in her vision, she tasted blood in her mouth where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek, and blood trickled from her nose and from her split upper lip, oozing down in two rivulets that dripped off her chin.

Wiping her face, she started to stand back up.  Snarling wordlessly, he’d grabbed her by her hair and shoved her face into the carpet, placing one long, bended knee down into the small of her back to hold her down.  She knew he would have killed her right then and there.  But adrenaline surged through her and she found the strength to wrench away from him.  She pushed herself back up to her feet and jumped out of his reach.  She stared up at him defiantly with hatred and anger in her eyes, refusing to be cowed even though he towered over her, seething with rage.

Without another word, he’d turned on his heel and left the room.  The house.  They didn’t see each other again for weeks.

It was not the first time he’d struck her.  But it was the first time he’d left such blatant marks for others to see.  She had to call in sick to work for the rest of her week’s shifts, to allow the cuts to close and the bruises to fade to the point where she could cover them up with heavy make-up, until they were gone completely.

So, after all the months of tears and fighting, after she’d finally agreed to go back to school, it was with only half a heart on her part, and no support or encouragement from him.

Because it wasn’t med school he’d refused to help pay for it, even though they had more than enough money.  He told her he didn’t support charity, and besides, it would make earning the degrees all the more rewarding for her, he said, knowing that she’d done it all on her own.

It was a load of crap, of course, but what could she do.  So, she’d had to keep working full time and could only attend classes part time.  She’d taken out a huge amount of school loans, too.  Going part-time made it take twice as long for her to complete the degrees, which had cost her even more money, in the long run…

While she was preoccupied with grad school, he’d quickly risen through the faculty ranks and was eventually named the new Trauma Director.  His ego and arrogance kept growing.

He kept to himself while she slaved away at her books.  Somehow their schedules worked out so that they were never off on the same days.  On her days off, she stayed home at their house in the suburbs, studying, writing papers.  The program slogged on, took longer than she expected.  Her thesis research had taken up an entire semester in and of itself.  She hated research — that’s probably why it had taken her so long to complete it. She just kept putting it off.  Then she had to write the thesis and submit it to her advisor.  An endless series of revisions and re-submissions took up another semester.  She wondered if her advisor had grown as sick of her paper as she had.

Increasingly, her husband spent many late nights and weekends at the hospital.  She’d thought he was finally showing her some consideration and kindness by leaving her to her studies, to keep from distracting her.

For surely, as the Trauma Director, he didn’t have to work those kinds of shift any longer…?

Eventually, she found out that he'd bought a high-rise penthouse near the hospital.  Had had it for years, she never knew about it.  It had never occurred to her that he would do something like that without telling her.  He’d said it was for those days when he was post-call, so he wouldn’t have to risk having an accident driving home after being awake for so long.  He made it sound like it was nothing, just a convenience for him, one that should have made perfect sense to her, so why, his tone seemed to ask, was she questioning it?

She’d believed him, of course.  Like she’d believed all his lies.

She subsequently found out he’d also gotten it for late-night entertaining of nurses from the ER and dancers at local strip clubs.

By then she’d finished school and was focusing on her new job and career.

By then his penchant for after-hours entertaining the nurses from the ER was a well-established and not-so-well-kept secret.  Everyone knew about it, except for her.

By then their relationship had drifted apart so much, she thought she just didn’t care anymore.

She grew quiet, her thoughts taking her down a lonely path of dark memories.

“What’s his name?” Rick asked softly, although he already suspected what it was.

A long moment of silence passed before she whispered, “Ri-Ricardo.  Rick.”

He nodded grimly.

“And, let me guess: we both look alike.”

“No.  Well, kind of.  You’re both tall.  But he’s been getting fat, all those free pharmaceutical lunches and dinners.  He’s stopped working out.  And he wears his hair in a sort of tall flat-top.  It's so thick, it makes it stand up kind of like a fur brush.  His skin is darker-complected, being Latin American.  I think he has a lot of Native South American or Indian in him or something.  His mother was from Spain, but I think his father’s family has been there for generations.  He never really talked about his family or anything like that.  He always said it wasn’t important.  He always said that since I was never going to meet them, what did I care?

She went on.  “They hyphenate their family names down there, you know, keeping both parents’ names.  But he dropped his father’s name when he came to the US, and just went by his mother’s:  Garcia.  But it’s really Sanchez-Garcia.  Funny, huh?  That you have similar names? I know they’re both common names, like ‘Smith’ or ‘Johnson.’  It’s just a coincidence that I’ve met two men with close to the same name, and y’all look like you could be cousins, or distant relations with some of the same DNA popping up out of the blue.  Maybe he's your doppelganger...”

She still wasn’t putting two and two together, even though to him it was so obvious.

But then, why should she?  How could she know that there were infinite dimensions, infinite Ricks?  And one had decided to drop in on his dimension and make himself right at home.

Beneath him, she swallowed, licking her lips.

“I need to drink something.”

So do I, he thought.

Silently, Rick handed her glass to her, the ice had completely melted.  He sat back on his heels while she propped herself up on her elbows and finished it off, leaving the olives and lemon peel as discarded refuse at the bottom, then he placed it back on the table before waiting for her to lay back down again.

She wriggled her shoulders to settle in. “Thanks for listening,” she said quietly, after a moment or two.

He smiled down at the back of her head wryly. “You really didn’t give me much choice, did ya, babe?”  He threaded one large, warm hand through her soft wavy hair and gently ruffled it.

She giggled, “No, I guess not.  But it feels good to talk about it.  Get it off my chest.”

He had been listening with growing interest, despite his initial misgivings.  And now he was glad he’d heard her story out.  His hands resumed kneading slowly across her shoulders as he considered his next words.

“But you haven’t told me everything, have you?” Rick said, quietly.

She sucked in her breath and grew tense beneath him again.  He saw her eyes pop open for the first time since she’d begun this tale, then she squeezed them shut in pain.

“No,” she whispered, shame and humiliation in her voice.  Please don’t make me, her voice said to him. He could practically feel her shrinking into herself, underneath him.

He took pity on her.  “It’s your story to share, babe.  I’m just your masseur for the evening.”

She lay underneath him quietly for a few moments.  He thought she’d fallen asleep.

“No.  I think I’ll save that for another night of too much gin.”

He chuckled, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room felt more lighthearted, as if a dark spell had broken.  He sat back and shifted his position so that he was sitting down on the couch once again.  He winced while he slowly straightened out his legs, feeling his knees and ankles pop from being bent for so long.

She rolled over and pulled a lightweight cotton blanket off the back of the couch and draped it across herself.  He lifted up her legs and laid them across his lap, his hands absentmindedly rubbing her feet.

His erection had left him long ago.

“So,” he looked down at her with a wink and a grin. “Ya wanna fuck?”

She laughed and lifted up her foot, pretending like she was going to heel him in the groin. “Don’t be an ass!” But her eyes sparkled and her smile was the most lighthearted since the first time he’d met her, he realized.

“But seriously, baby,” he said, leaning down close and holding her face in his hands.  “I am not that Rick.  I will never, ever make you do anything that you don’t want to do.  OK?”

She sucked in her breath.  “I know,” she whispered, looking into his eyes.

He bent down and took his lips in hers and gave her a sweet, soft kiss.

tbc

[burningawaytowards]

Cunt of a Mother in Law

Let me tell you about my Mother in Law. Her name is Frances. She pretty much destroyed her children and she’s a monster, drama queen, and I won’t be sad when she passes away.

Before I get started with her, let me give you some background.

I married her son in 1998. I already had a child with someone else, Billy quickly became a father figure to my son. We divorced in 2000 when Billy cheated on me. We were divorced for 10 years. He divorced his second wife because she was cheating on him (karma) and then we reconnected. He knew he fucked up our marriage. He even thought about me the whole time he was with the slut he dumped me for. We both were two totally different people when we reconnected but somethings never change… mostly his family. They are all damaged because of his mother

When we were married the first time, Billy and I decided that I would be a stay at home mom. My son was just 18 months, and we thought that I could stay at home until he started school. It was a good plan because we didn’t have many bills since I bought the new trailer we lived in with the money from my inheritance. But his family slowly started to influence him, telling him I just HAD to work because it was awful that I was a stay at home mom. We started to fight because I wasn’t working, even tho we didn’t have any money problems…he just expected me to work. My family thought he was insane and started to hate him because he was being controlled.  Yes, he was being controlled, by his family 

Soon after we started fighting, I had a miscarriage. I was depressed. I was sad because I really wanted another baby. My husband didn’t understand depression, a matter of fact, his family convinced him that I was just lazy ….soon after I miscarried, We divorced because he cheated on me with another woman. He later married that same woman. His family came in between our marriage, as disgusting as that is…there’s more. 

When we separated before we divorced..they convinced Billy to change the locks on the trailer, the trailer that I paid for because they knew if I couldn’t get my stuff and if I couldn’t live in the property that they could claim that I abandoned everything and he could keep it. He had nothing, everything he had was because of me. When we married, he had nothing…not even his own car. 

He didn’t keep everything tho, I eventually got most of my stuff back, the stuff they didn’t steal when I left the trailer plus I didn’t get the trailer because I kept the new car we had just bought. It pissed his mom off, she honestly thought Billy was owed everything…just because he was her son. Frances thinks she and her entire family are very entitled. 

Billy’s older sister, Tammy called my mom…called me a whore because I went out with my gay friend to the movies ( by coincidence,  Billy and his new girlfriend was at also) …My mom told Tammy that the road runs both way and Tammy hung up on her and we never heard from them for 10 years. 

I eventually got over the hurt Billy and his family put me thru. I went on and became successful, had another child with another ex-boyfriend and had a pretty good life. BUT the 10 years we were not together, it wasn’t so great for Billy. 

Billy’s  wife was crazy, she would hit and scream at him if he merely looked at another woman. She was an alcoholic.  She wouldn’t work ( and they didn’t have kids either, she just wouldn’t work) and she cheated on him all the time. She was everything Billy and his family said about me, I was the polar opposite of the bitch he dumped me for. Karma bit his ass and he realized it soon after he married her. but he didn’t want to divorce another woman so he tried to make it work until he just couldn’t anymore. She left him for another man. 

Billy also realized how fucked up his family was and he distanced himself from them also. They never came around, they blamed his ex but they didn’t come around when we were married before and even now…they only came around when they needed something. His older sister Tammy and his younger sister Tracy fought all the time and his mother fueled the fights, she would pit her own children against each other. When we were married the first time, Billy’s step-dad Bob was accused of molesting younger members of BIlly’s family, his cousins. No one in Billy’s family like bob…I came to find out after we got back together that no one in Bob’s family liked him either and his MANY brothers and sisters disowned him. I don’t know why and don’t need to know, probably because he’s a pedophile. 

Billy had three nieces that we babysat a lot when we were married before. We were close, but when we split they became close to the ex-wife and it shows. She defiantly influenced them because they are all just horrible people. 

Flash forward to now. His family was shocked when Billy and I got back together. They still treat us like shit and they are still crazy, let me tell you how. I’ll break it down by sibling 

Tammy, Billy’s older sister. She has to be right about everything. She has a son, Allan that can do no wrong…even tho he was abusive to his ex-wife and he even admitted it, it was still his ex-wife’s fault when she left him. Billy cheated on me and that was ok with her but when her son’s ex-wife cheated on him, she’s the worst person. Not to mention, Tammy lies about everything. Tammy told me once that when she would visit Billy and his ex-wife, the ex would hide from her because she was scared of her. Billy quickly corrected her…for one, Tammy never came around much even tho she lived 5 minutes away and for two, his ex would go out of her way to be nice to her when she did visit. Allan commits insurance fraud, ALL THE TIME…he even burned his own house down for the insurance money. Tammy is dumb enough to tattle tale on him and she doesn’t even realize it cause you can’t have a normal conversation with Tammy…she controls the entire conversation and she just rambles. She eventually tells on herself and others because she can’t keep her mouth shut and her lies straight.  Tammy screams and yells at anyone that doesn’t do things her way. She treats me and Billy like we are 5 years old. She talks down to us.  She’s a huge bitch. She only likes someone if they have money if they don’t have money they are nobodies….you can tell she’s like that because she is constantly talking about how much money everyone makes, and she only hangs out with people that make a lot of money…even tho she’s up to her eyeballs in debt. She doesn’t have much to do with us. Allen hates fat people and will make fun of them on his facebook. He called me fat once and I stood up for myself, but of course, he told everyone that I was lying. Now they branded me a troublemaker even tho he still makes fun of fat people on his facebook. Did I  mention he looks like a troll tho? 

Joe, BIlly’s older brother. I don’t know a lot about Joe. He’s always kept his distance from everyone but I do know that he has two biological children that he abandoned, he never raised or never had anything to do with. His mom, of course, blames the ex-girlfriend but Joe’s ex-girlfriend lets the rest of the family see the children whenever they like. I doubt she’s keeping Joe from seeing his own children. Billy said Joe’s ex-was actually very nice. However, Joe did marry another woman who was taking care of her two baby cousins. His wife makes a lot of money, 6 digits a year and for a guy that never worked until he met his curtain, rich wife, that was a dream come true for him. Joe just now got a real job because he didn’t want to lose his breadwinner wife. Billy’s mom brags about this fact a lot, that Joe is only with his wife for her money. Billy’s mom acts like she is proud of him for it too. She can’t stand Joe’s wife and she talks bad about her all the time but it does make sense that Joe is only with his now wife for her money because they just recently adopted those boys his wife took care of but yet he won’t take care of his own kids….hm? I don’t know if I should feel sorry for Joe’s wife or not. I’m sure she knows that he abandoned his kids. Who would marry a guy like that??

Tracy, Billy’s younger sister. Tammy and Joe are Billy’s half-siblings. Tracy is his full sister. Tracy is sweet but she’s probably the most troubled. She married a man that she later divorced but after they divorced,   he killed his own mother. She had two girls by him, they are both in their 20s, both have children of their own. Tracy then married another man, had another child with him and divorced him also. But her ex-took custody away from her because she was an awful mother. She never was a good mom. She never took care of her first two, her mom did..which explains why her children are awful too. The youngest daughter actually has a good head on her shoulder but she wasn’t raised my Billy family. Just goes to show you how fucked up they are. Tracy is a whore. I’m not trying to be mean, she just is. She has cheated on all her husbands. All 3 of them and she just can’t stop fucking around. She’s also an instigator, she will start a fight for no other reason than she’s bored. She fights with Tammy constantly, mostly for her mother’s attention. The sick part about it is her mother knows this and picks fights with her daughters. If Tracy and goes by to see her mom, her mom will then call Tammy after Tracy leaves and gossip about her or tell her everything Tracy says, even if it’s about Tammy… And vice versa. Tracy lies about everything as well. Unfortunately, Tracy’s two oldest daughters have picked up on their mothers behavior (even tho their mom didn’t raise them, what does that tell you about Billy’s mom, hm?) Brittany has three kids and she doesn’t raise them either. Billy’s mom and her husband’s parents raise them while Brittany and her husband take lush vacations and run around wild. Brooke is an instigator as well. Brooke accused Tammy’s husband of touching her when she was 15. Tammy’s husband took her to court, took a lie detector test (that he passed), and sued Tracy. Brooke was supposed to take a lie detector test also but she didn’t. Brooke later apologized to Tammy and her husband and dropped everything… Until Tracy brought it back up again a few years later. This time I got to witness their fight and it was disturbing. 

Now don’t get me wrong, Billy isn’t perfect but he knows at least why he’s fucked up and he’s getting help for his anger management issues. I believe that’s why his siblings don’t have a lot to do with us, we have a good sensible head on our shoulders. We’re fairly intelligent. We’re open-minded. We aren’t judging. Billy’s siblings are the opposite of us… They are racist, homophobes, and not very bright. I think they realize we’re better than them. 

Billy’s mom was never a mother to her children. She was in prison for a good chunk of Billy’s childhood. She was in prison for identity theft, writing bad checks and other things. Billy was scarred by it cause his grandmother raised him and Tracy and the grandmother were horrible to them. Then once Billy’s mom did get custody back of her kids, she was remarried to Bob and Bob beat and played mind games with them. Frances let him do it too and never said anything to him. She didn’t protect her children.

 Frances destroyed her children but yet she still expects them to basically worship her. Her anniversary is coming up on Sunday. She called Billy and told Billy she expected us to come up and celebrate it with them. Celebrate an anniversary of her and a man that was abusive toward her children. Yeah, OK. Fucking evil bitch. I don’t even know why she wants me there, she hates me just like she hates all her children’s and grandchildren’s significant others. She talks about all of them to us, she tells us that she hates them all. And of course I’m not stupid, I know she does the same with me. Plus she always makes fun of my illnesses and laughs at me when I talk about how sick I am but yet she thinks we're supposed to check on her when she has a headache. I’ve even heard that fucking bitch talk about me while I was in the same room. (Brooke does the exact same thing) She whispered to her husband that I was a horrible mother cause I “let” Alex (my 4-year old that I have with Billy) fall. The nerve of that cunt. It’s hard to believe that she can call anyone a horrible mother when she fucked up her kids and their kids and their kids. Well, except for our kids. Billy knows how his mother is and we keep our distance. She won’t have any influence over our kids. Frances brags about how good a mother Brittany and Brooke are even tho Brittany is a lazy slob. She can’t keep her kids, house, or car clean. Brittany hardly ever has her kids either. And when she does, she sits on her fat ass and plays on her phone while her bratty kids are God only knows where. Brooke is psycho and will beat her 2 toddler kids while she fucks every man that looks at her. Frances never offers to help us, which we would never take her offer but it just goes to show you how she is. We have two children with autism, we get zero help. We do everything on our own and that cunt can’t even call and check on us. She’s pathetic and I hate that she screwed up my husband. Bob now has Alzheimer’s and I can’t help but to laugh. I hope it hurts. Payback that nasty bastard for all the pain he inflicted. Karma is a bitch!

And if you think I’m exaggerating any of this, Billy can collaborate everything that I said. It’s really sad that we are more mature than his own mother and she 72 years old. She’s such a piece of shit!

January 20th, 2018