So..as I have been tweeting about my affair I thought I would stop taking up people's timeline and write more here.
   Loving that man really cost me my sanity. My soul was laid bare and open for all to see when hubs drugged me because He thought I was sleeping with my boss and found about the real affair. It threw me into a psychosis which to be honest, I was probably already headed for due to bipolar depression. I went to work for 4 days psychotic. I tried to tell everyone that I was drugged but no one believed me and thought that I was on meth or something. There was even and Aids rumor going around about me.I admitted to trying meth before to them and that I smoked pot but that I knew I had been drugged. No one believed me. The holier than thou co workers thought I finally got caught from having an affair with this man and deserved what I got. I was so ashamed and completely torn-like the Natalie Imbruglia song. Really, listen to it. It describes me at that exact time. I had an office of my own kind of job working with people who knew about my past. It took a lot for me to work my way up from my bad reputation. This guy knew but he also knew I wasn't the same person as I was when I was just a kid screwing around. He knew me and the person I was striving to be and that gave me confidence. He was the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. If that makes any sense.
   I ended up in a mental health wing of a hospital for five days. On the 2nd day I walked by a window and the thought to "just jump" came to my mind. Luckily there were bars on the windows. by the fifth day I took a test to see if I was drugged but only pot came back. But I know what I know. Whatever he gave me was gone out of my system by then. It comes back to me in flashes. Hubs gave me a glass of tea to drink. He never brought me anything to drink before. We went to his brothers and got high. I got super sleepy and we left. I have no memory of getting home. This happened on a Friday and I woke up maybe saturday night crying and upset. I went outside and set on the picnic table trying to figure out what the fuck happened. I went to work. couldn't do my job. freaked out on the 4th day. the law got involved. Coworkers thought I had given the other man aids and that's what was wrong with me that and drugs. I was ashamed that the other man knew I admitted to trying meth and that I smoked pot. Those are the only things I kept from him. On the third day I left work after the human resource director told me to go talk to "him and that it would be safe". I didn't trust her and I couldn't trust giving away that we were indeed more than just friends even though everyone suspected. I had told him once my safe space was a bridge over a lake. So when HR lady said to meet in safe place (she meant break room) my psychotic mind meant the lake. I drove 16 miles. got out and laid on a bench and thought about killing myself. I mean truly doing it. I wasn't thinking about him, my family, anything other than I was broken and would never be the same again. The only thing that saved my life that day was the fact that I hadn't done laundry that week and had no clean underwear so I was wearing a pair of hubs boxer briefs. I didn't want to be found with them on and have people make up even more stories about me. That is the ONLY thing that saved my life that day. All of this grief over someone I never even slept with.
     I could of slept with him. I went to his house to "see his new horse". a year or two before my psychosis. we had wine made out and then I took the glasses to the sink to clean up so his wife wouldn't notice. I turned around and he was totally naked. My god he looked great. He was 40 then and in perfect shape. But. we were in his wife's home with pictures of his family on the walls, plus I was on my period. I had no plans to sleep with him there.Plus, it made me feel like a whore all over again. I just didn't want it to be just sex. To me it would of meant so much more. Like I said in my tweets our timing was never in sync. We carried on a bit longer but became more like best friends later instead of lover-like.  When I wanted to he didn't and vice versa. Now that hubs can no longer have sex I wish I had the memory of sleeping with that man but hubs would of killed me for sure. If I had known I wouldn't be having sex now I would of done it the second time he asked me just to have the memory.
Anyway, I know this was rambling and I'll do better on my next blog. with more exact details.

My biggest fear is that I'll commit suicide.

My father.

If my father had not been a drinker he would of been a pretty good dad. He never beat me or abused me in any way except the fact that he and my mother argued a lot. He was a smart man and read all of the time. He took our family camping almost every weekend. He was into horses for a bit. He was a rodeo judge until right before he died.  He and my mother divorced when I was 11. I didn't mind so much. That meant no more arguing. My stepmother was a sneaky trouble making bitch but she made my dad happy so .......He drank right up until he got sick. He had stomach and lung cancer. He died 7 years ago.

My 3 1/2 year old self.

I was scrolling through Facebook recently and I came across a nice picture of my friend's 4 children who had an impromptu sleepover with their grandparents. All of the kids had on a tee shirt from grandpa for nightgowns for the sleepover. It was an  innocent and cute picture but I've been a mess since seeing it. Let me explain.

First a bit of a back story. My paternal grandfather died before I was born. My grandmother married a nice man just before I was born. My grand parents adored me. I stayed with them most weekends. They slept in separate beds. When I would fall asleep on the couch I would wind up in either grandma or grandpa's bed. So waking up and not realizing at first which bed I was in was a normal occurrence for me. Both my grand parents were kind and loving and never did anything inappropriate to me. EVER.

One night I woke up in bed. Someone was pushing me under the covers. They had a white cotton tee shirt and men's briefs on. At first, to my horror, I thought it was my grandfather because he always wore a mans white tee to bed. I quickly realized it was my uncle. I had no ideal what he was doing. He slowly pushed me to his groin area and you can guess the rest. My grandmother let me sleep with my uncle and had no ideal what he would do to me. He was 14 at the time and I'm sure she didn't think any thing like that would happen between her own child and most favored grandchild.

I was scared but mostly confused. I don't remember the incident ending and I don't remember the next morning and I don't even know if it was the first time.


The following weekend I stayed with my grandparents again as usual. My mother had forgotten to pack my pjs. My grandmother decided to let me use my grandfathers white tee as a nightgown for me to sleep in.
When I saw the white tee I started sobbing hard and kept saying no no no.  My grandmother had no ideal why I was carry on so. She finally gave up and put in something of hers on me to sleep in and sent me to my grandfathers lap so he could calm me down. She went the next day and got me new pajamas.

For me, the white tee reminded me of that night with my uncle. I was crying out in the only way I knew how. I don't know why kids don't tell. I don't remember why I didn't. How could my grandmother of known?  I was too young to articulate what had happened.

I often think of my 3 1/2 year old self that night. I want to hold her close and keep her safe. My heart breaks for her. That began 7 years of abuse. I never cried from the abuse after that. I just became resigned to my horrible fate and never told anyone. I will never how that little 3 1/2 year old would of turned out without the abuse and I can never escape the memories.

The one thing I could do as an adult was to make sure my children never suffered the same fate and now they can look back at their childhood in a happy way. I thank God for that.

My first memory.

 My parents moved to Chicago IL with their families to find jobs when they were both 16. They met while there and got married when they were 18 years old.  2 years later my brother was born. I came along 2 years after that. My mother got pregnant again when I was 9 months old. She did not take that too well. She was overwhelmed I guess because she just let me lie around in my crib most of the time  (according to my grandmother). By the time I was 18 mos. my younger sister came along and my mother still left me in my crib most of the time.  I could not walk, talk and was underfed. Even though I was not being cared for properly my mother did take care of  both my siblings and very well I might add. My grandmother came for a visit and saw that I was not being properly cared for.  She took me home to live with her and I think that shamed my mother. My grandmother lavished attention on me, got my weight up and taught me how to walk and talk. I bonded with her and was a happy baby while being with her. When I was about 2  1/2   my mother came and retrieved me. My first memory is walking up the flights of stairs to our apartment in Chicago with my mother and siblings.  I remember thinking " grandma said this is my mother. These 2 children are my brother and sister" I felt no connection. We got in the apartment and my mom just walked away from me and left me in the living room. No welcome home. Hell she didn't even talk to me much less hold me. That event may not seem like a big deal for some but for me it set the tone for my entire relationship with my mother. We never  bonded yet she did with my siblings. Never in my life, not even once, did my mother ever hold me and tell me that she loved me. NEVER.