Extra, Extra Content -- DELIBERATE BETRAYAL

"It was easier for you to do all the things you did, because you never really trusted me in the first place. However I felt the blow after blow of betrayal to my psyche, injuries that only you could inflict, because I continued to trust you." – Anon

Bill – and this will be the last time I ever address you by name, and hopefully, address you period, as with this, the boil is lanced, but, I dislike you, no, loathe, hate, despise you, that much – the above quote pretty much sums up our marriage. I may have been a stupid fool, but I believed in you and expected the same in return. We tend to look at the world through our own prism; if we're kind-hearted and loving, we expect the same in return, regardless of the circumstances.

Anyway, I wanted to wish you a very, very happy ex-Anniversary, on this, October Ninth, year of our Lord, 2013. Enjoy it, you philandering, lying hypocrite. D'you remember your very last words that you ever spoke to me, after you asked me for your cell phone bill in late October-ish, November, of 2004, when I said I didn't have it? “You're a liar.” I, of course admit now, that I had it, and had called Andrea Tapiocahead in Maryland and informed her that I was your then wife, because you, not being omniscient, could never have known otherwise, no? I also told her that if you treated me this way, you would eventually treat her the same way! Ain't that great?

What I should have answered, but was oh, so very, very sick with Congestive Heart Failure, blind in one eye that was caused, not by my drinking, as you so sanctimoniously loved to tell me was bad, which yes, it was; that's what alcoholics do, when they're offered a beer by their then-boyfriends, whom they have trusted for a year or so, but by anemia, failure to thrive (childhood – I found out by getting into my old hospital's system, but I don't leave tracks; it's depressing to find out that the deck is that stacked, BUT, (deep breath) by stress and the fact that I had had ulcer surgery, and really, really neglecting my B-12 shots. I SHOULD have said to you, after you said, “You're a liar,” “Well, at least I'm not a philanderer.” So laughably ironic and sad; or as the late, great cellist Spencer Mcgee said, “Sad and an asshole.”

Where did things go wrong? That week I spent in Tampa right after we moved to Charlotte and I had contractual obligations to fulfill, in December, 1999? You were perfectly content to let me stay alone in that house on Annie Street all by myself, with no phone, no protection, and when I asked Herb if I could sleep on his couch, he said “yes.” Yet, your were so pissed by that. In what realm of what universe does that make sense? How fucking safe is that? Then, you swelled up like a horned toad and acted like the typical shithead you are until I pried it out of you in April, 2000.

NOTHING HAPPENED! Nothing was going to happen. But, no woman is going to stay by herself in that neighborhood. Your sense of self-righteous indignation are just breath-taking. Then, the following month, when you went to Tampa for Katie's Graduation, and stayed a few extra days, you came home and looked like you'd had about 8 8-balls shoved up your nose. The look on your face was pure guilt; I'm sure you climbed into somebody's pants in Tampa. I'm lucky I never got a disease from you. I was completely faithful throughout our marriage.

You just never had the stones to deal with anything or anyone that had REAL trouble. I was the one who carried Rusty outside and down the stairs after he had his stroke, so he could go potty; you couldn't even look at him. You MADE me help you drag Eric out into the back 40 when he had dug into his hole under our porch, so you didn't have to hear his screams, when he was dying.

When Eric had all those fistulas, I was the one who took care of him; wiped his bottom and broke up those capsules so he would heal. I cooked, cleaned, ironed, split the bills. I even agreed to split the bills 50-50, although it was a hardship, when you UNILATERALLY decided to quit your job at CGS and go back to school so you could save the world and make a difference.

In doing so, I helped there, not just with the bills, but with your job and the making those poor girls brownies. The one who lived over on the East Coast of Florida, as soon as she got out and was calling us, as you had bonded with her, you had me dealing with her, because it was too much trouble for you to deal with her. Just dump it on me.

Then, there's Herb. Herb's okay, but forgetful. You came at me over the finches dying after I had been away on a gig for a week or so. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Feed and water them by ESP? I TOLD him to take care of them and you have the temerity and the goddamned nerve to say to me, “What a shitty way to die!” I wasn't going to tell you he forgot. I was protecting him, because he was my friend (I thought) and because you were acting like some kind of fucking schizophrenic asshole, instead of just being your regular asshole self.

You were so far deep into your self-righteous “I am the all-knowing one with the job, while my lazy asshole wife lays around, does God knows what drugs, drinks, runs around. . .”

You were seeing me through YOUR eyes. You were the one who told the girls time after time, “I've quit smoking!” and then hide it from them; while Katie was snowboarding in Charlotte, in 1999, to Kyle, over and over and over. And you wondered why Kyle was pregnant BEFORE she left high school? Do you REALLY believe Fran didn't know? I knew, but I wasn't going to say a fucking word. Just reading this paragraph presents a whole basket of “STAY THE FUCK AWAY – LIARS AHEAD!!”

I think Katie has a pretty good moral compass, or at least she did, if she gets a chance to read this, understand, I meant you no harm, nor Kyle, ever. I loved you both, but you, especially. It really hurt me, when your father isolated me from the birth of Alex, and he did that with deliberation. I couldn't have driven to see her, I had one good eye and as it was, driving short distances were, understandably terrifying. Try covering your left eye and just walk around. No depth perception and no peripheral vision. Now add to that, labored breathing and a bad heart and a cheating husband and no one to turn to. For about 6 weeks. Then one day, your heart says, “no more, if you go back, you'll die.” Two grocery bags of clothes, my viola and violin and I was gone to live on a friend's couch.

The same thing with Dwayne. He was sick the day I got home from Brandon Regional Medical Center, where I had been for 2 weeks, with CHF. I had to have 6 pints of blood transfused because I only had 2% hemoglobin in my body. The day after I got home, Dwayne was in a corner. You were clearly doing your own thing, which wasn't feeding the cats, or whatever the fuck it was, just waiting to make my life more miserable. He could hardly breathe. I had to take him to the vet. I had no money, after having losing my job with Chase Manhattan because of my blindness. I had to call around to find a vet who would see me and him, because I had not money. The vet was straight up with me. We looked him over and he was in bad shape. His breath smelled bad; when he could draw breath, it rattled and he wheezed. He sounded like his parts were broken. After much discussion, I called Herb, who was now living with us (how did I know that was going to happen?) and he at least was sympathetic and had a grave dug, by the time I got home.

I was going to tell you, but Herb beat me to it, and you whirled around and said, to me, you said, you miserable cock-sucking bastard, “You murdered Dwayne!” I put him out of his damned misery, which you were too blind with lust, for the afore-mentioned Andrea? Self-righteousness over how very wrong I was, and how very right you were? Whatevs.

There were so many little petty mean things you said and did that I cannot possibly enumerate them all. I truly believe that your soul will be cast out into the darkness and you will be anathema. You will be denied grace and forgiveness; you will be denied any succor or understanding, because, you, you bastard have denied it, when it was so desperately needed. Cast into the stygian blackness, you are commanded to the Elders of Cthulhu, in the Time and Color before space. It exists.

That is partly the Catholic rite of excommunication and partly H. P. Lovecraft, and all mine. Curses are powerful things. You are damned and cursed and I am sure that at some point, if not by me or any agent that I choose to put into play, retribution will be made. I realize that I am damned lucky to be alive; I am also much stronger than I was.

Oh, and hey? Before my eye surgery? Thanks for yelling at me about not doing anything; that was great. You: “You just sit there and look at that goddamned book!!” Me (thinking) “Hmm, no job, totally blind, and he's yelling at me. I cannot believe this; what the fuck am I supposed to do? Grow new lenses?” I actually was thinking nothing; I was too terrified, humiliated and scared and you fucking knew it and made it worse. Rot in hell, you bastard. Herb stood by and watched all of this. Take him with you.

Anyway, the reason I posted the post on my blog, “Homeless Chronicles in Tampa” on May, 22, 2013, is because I found out that you were working at Gulf Coast Jewish Services, which I take as a HUGE insult, slap in the face, whatever. My mom worked there, and although, we had our years and years of problems, she and I made it right. The only thing I agree with you about is this: “she has wisdom.” Ma would say being really sick teaches a lot about compassion, but it also teaches you tons about true unconditional love and acceptance and accountability. It also teaches you about looking at the mote in your own eye.

If she were alive now, she would not only loathe you, but Herb, and most of your family. She would encourage me to probably go farther than I am, I think. Not a goddamned one of you did a thing. I was sick and dispirited for a long time after her death, but that was nothing compared to what has happened after I left 4406 Spring Road, Valrico, Florida, 33596. Let's just say, I've had more interesting times and I'm much better off for it. I heard you left there; somehow I am not surprised. You like to “re-invent” yourself every few years. Maybe one of these years, you'll find a re-invention that's human and not cyborg or an asshole². (That means “squared” and not a footnote, igmo.)

I still practice my arts; not that you care. Because, I have lifelong loves, and unlike you, I am a real musician. I've kept up my computer skills and can fix anything and do pretty much anything, from home. Although I am legally blind, there isn't a place in this world I can't travel.

But, I really only left, because I was starting to fear for my life. My heart was growing weaker and I was supposed to avoid stress. I know Herb was telling you everything, but I truly believe that if I had had a heart attack and fallen to the floor, you would have stood there and watched me die. You were hoping I would die and then everything would be yours and you wouldn't have to fool with me anymore. I didn't want to leave. I don't like leaving, but you knew what buttons to push.

Now, that I've seen the elephant, I'm not afraid of anything. Not you, not anybody. I wish I had the guts then that I have now, but this is life and we don't get what we wish for.

However, we did discuss at one time, my 5,000.00 401k that you “borrowed” in Charlotte, NC and you were going to pay me back. That never happened. That wasn't in the divorce settlement. Also, 200.00 for Jake, 200.00 for that violin (that you played so badly) and 200.00 for the Celestron Telescope, that was supposed to be “our” Christmas Present to one another, one year. By, the way, the divorce settlement, exactly covered the amount of money I paid for all the bills and food JUST while I was in the Valrico house. Never mind the stupid Atkins Diet that I "shared" 300.00 a week for food on, when we were in Charlotte, NC.

You also have a heavy iron skillet that is like glass, that belonged to my grandmother, and I want that back. I also want my mother's Garden Fairy. You kept a bunch of my heavy rods and reels, that were presents, INDIAN giver. Never mind. The girls gave me the Mix-Master for Mother's Day in 2002, but it's too ironic. You keep it. The sign that reads “Stinkbug Creek” that I bought and paid for, if you haven't already gotten rid of it, please take it down and burn it; I'm serious.

That's about all I have to say. I am posting this on October 9, 2013, which would have been our whatever year anniversary. Big fucking deal. I am also thinking mailing you, Herb, Katie, and whoever else I can think of a copy, of this here fine post. Don't get your panties in a wad and think about filing harassment or stalking (as if!) charges, because I will stall and file continuances and we'll end up in a jury trial, and talk about some more of your rotten behavior and I'm not doing anything illegal. I'm disabled, legally blind, and on SSDI. Mostly, I just wanted to tell you what a cock-sucking, son-of-a-whore you are, and I doubt you have the stones to refute or explain ANY of this. I would ask Herb about that note, however. 

One thing I am curious about; just what did you tell Katie, John, Kyle and her husband, your sister Cathy Bush and her husband Dan Hill in Oklahoma City, Fran or anyone else, in the Blanton family, about why I was no longer in your life? What kind of opprobrium did you heap upon my reputation, so that you could look like the good guy? You are a churl, coward and bully, and I dare say, you told them all I was cheating on you and running around, or crazy. You most certainly said nothing to Cathy and Dan until after the fact, because they strike me as kind people, people who would be concerned that a woman with no other family, was being systematically shunned by her so-called "family-by-marriage." Think back on your own father's behavior towards your own mother Irene Stone. If she left you behind, she had damned good reason to and I'm sure it was with regret, but she also felt her life threatened. Think about that, long and hard. 

5,000.00 loan for cashed in 401k (no interest) you said on the back porch you would pay me back. It was a loan up in Charlotte.
200.00 for Jake
200.00 for violin, which you didn't need
200.00 for my part of the telescope; Herb sent me the manual -- fat lot of good that will do.

$5600.00 TOTAL

my mother's cast iron skillet, which had been her mother's

garden fairy -- which had been my mother's

heavy fishing rigs, which were mine as a gift from you, Bill. I may not be able to see well enough to drive, but I can still fish.

Take down and burn "Stinkbug Creek" sign, as it was my idea. 

You're such a bastard you probably dug up poor Trotsky, Dwayne and Sage (you pitched a fit about my having to work after her death, but saw no hypocrisy about dragging Eric away to the back 40 to die miserably alone, you immoral jackal.)

John, I bear you nor Katie any ill-will, but please stop having her look for me. Her father should have the stones to do that, or confront me in my blog. He robbed me of my health, dignity and my future. It's taken many years to get to the point where I have a good life again. I lost not only the Valrico house, in the divorce, but a house I was trying to buy in the economic crisis, with the measly settlement, I stupidly agreed to in the divorce. I want nothing from him, but what I enumerated above. He knows the truth, but will never tell you so; I'd wager it.

Katie is not his stalking-horse. He is a coward and a bully and your wife is a fine woman. But I know she's been trying to find me; let Bill do his own dirty work. You and Katie raise your family; the less you have to do with him and his taint, the better. 

I do not really expect to see the money, because he is not honorable, but I do want my things, especially the iron skillet and the garden fairy. If ANYONE cares to respond, I will pay for shipping. Someone in that whole bunch needs to grow a spine and start showing some damn principles. It's called virtue. Look it up and live it. It's what I've learned to do every day. It isn't easy and I should be thankful; in a way I am. I'm in a place I need to be, among the poor and homeless, doing real good, not some jumped-up half-assed teaching per Dr. Phil. Katie understands me better than anyone, I guess. So, just think about what I said. Take care and a very, Merry Christmas to you and your wife, and family. Mary