Let me be clear: This is not a ex-wife bashing podcast and blog.
This is a divorce bashing podcast and blog.
Divorce sucks. I want to make it very clear that I am an integral part of my divorce sucking. I was an unfaithful husband, I was very untimely in paying my child support, I got my kids involved when I shouldn’t have, I had stupid fights with my ex when I should have taken the high road, and many more mistakes that I’ve either written or will write about. We both made some horrible mistakes. It’s on her as to whether she wants to admit that, but I’m admitting it now. So many mistakes. I can’t change the past, but I am truly sorry.
But that is what this platform is for: Exposing my mistakes to the world so hopefully I can help people from making the same stupid ones. It’s like showing my personal journal to whoever wants to read it. Some of it will have my ex’s bad choices. Some of it will have mine.
As I read the responses I have been getting from my ex, I’m getting the impression that she thinks this is all to defame her somehow- or that it’s my way of getting back at her. That is a ridiculous notion and just simply not the case. I’m giving my precious readers and listeners a truthful account of the past and the present- the good, the bad, and the ugly. I am humbly defaming myself as well in the process. It just is what it is.
I’m not sure why I’m getting these harassing emails. I was hoping for some emails or calls from her where we could apologize to each other and maybe mend some things for our kids’ sake. But as much as I speak the truth, the more comments that I get that it’s either lies and BS or it’s just demeaning, terrible, negative crap. The most recent email comment I shared in the last chapter was the tamest of them all. The previous ones were extremely harsh and belittling ( I might share those with you at some point), but this last one gives you a sense of the non-stop control attacks I just continue to receive. Let’s break them down for a minute:
I can’t communicate or contact my daughter. (Mothers please don’t tell your kids’ father that he can’t talk to your children. Unless there are some serious court-appointed reasons)
I’m not their father. (Mothers please don’t say they aren’t their dad. Being a divorced dad is hard enough. Unless another man is their father- then that would be a whole other story.)
I can’t share my side of the story because it’s all BS. (Mothers: there is always two sides to every story)
Notice how all of it is about the control of me? Telling me what to do. And just negative and belittling. Constantly. Never-ending. For 13 years. When will it end?
I honestly don’t know when it will stop, but I continue to pray it will soon. But I’ll just keep revealing to you my personal, truthful journal and if the harassing emails from Marsha keep coming, I will definitely let you know.
So let’s get back to me teleporting. After I make that stupid suggestion that it was my turn, everyone is cheering me on to do it. Except Angela. She looks as worried as me. It wasn’t a look of “don’t do it”, it was more of a look of “ oh boy. Are you really going to try it?”
“Are you really going to try and teleport, babe?” She asks. Told ya she was thinking that.
“Well if the kids can do it, shouldn’t we at least try?” I respond.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Angela says. “But I’m sweating thinking about how nervous I am for you. And me.” She gives me that cute, apprehensive laugh she has.
“Oh don’t be nervous,” I say back, even though I am nervous as hell. “ Like the kid’s did, all I have to say is I want to be behind that tree over—“
Then I feel my body get extremely warm and then everything goes fuzzy. And then the world- as I see it- goes black.