He can’t text me back anymore because his phone died. He can’t charge his phone because he lost the charger i (laughably) charged on our Menards card because i grew tired of him taking my charger. I noticed his lack of battery this morning and put his phone in airplane mode, to get some charge before i left. He took it off of said charger a few minutes later not knowing why i did what i did, or just not noticing. So he was at 30% when i left, despite efforts both great and small on my part to keep HIS phone charged.

Why dont we have two chargers? Well we cant afford to go buy a second one. I charge one and his idiotic ass loses it less than a month later. Why dont we get a cheap one from a gas station? Because those can fuck up your phone and ruin it, and you better believe we REALLY cant afford to buy a new phone.

So i cant even text him, the cause of all this bullshit.

We were going to meet for lunch at a Thai place i really like. I was really excited. I left my packed lunch at home. Then i checked our bank balanace at my 10 o’clock break. We have $2.95 left. No lunch date. No eating for me at all. I have a fresh bag of disgusting coffee at work, so i’ll make do.

Hes making so little money right now his last paycheck was for $270, for two weeks. Such a goddamn joke. So for the past two weeks ive been BARELY scrapping us by. Having to portion and ration and allocate and scrape and scrimp, i can do it i guess but MY GOD is it disheartening. After all these years. After working so hard. No matter what you CAN say about me, you cant call me lazy.

We got our federal tax return a few days ago. The tax burden placed on us is unreal. The return was JUST enough to cover my federal student loan payment. Sickening, isnt it? So instead of getting reemed really bad on a late loan payment i used all of it on the 7th, the day the loan was due. The hope was that the payment wouldnt withdraw until friday when my husbands next paycheck would direct deposit. I have to go to the bank every friday because my employer will not do direct deposit. So often we NEED the money on my paycheck that Friday. Its all gone to bills and the meager groceries we need to live before the weekend is even over.

Just last month we finished paying off our 2016 back taxes ($200/month) because he couldnt fill out a W4 correctly.

So the loan payment withdrew today. It wasnt late. But now i cant eat. My husband said he would make me something and bring it. Dont let that fool you. Its his father talking, the obnoxious offerer of annoying, unusable suggestions. We have nothing to bring. I well know what food is in our house. He said it seemed like i was intentionally making this worse. I told him id forgotten about my contractual obligation to always be cheerful. Then he gave up. I can bring ALL of his complaints about me down to some expectation of perfection on his part.

Speaking of that.

So you know that we’ve been trying to conceive. Well last night and the night before were two important nights to fuck. First night after some effort he was able to get hard, then, “right before” hes going to come, his dick goes limp. Cue fifteen minutes of him awkwardly yanking at himself to no avail. Then last night, he couldnt even get an erection. He got close, but that time between him coaxing one out (coax is the wrong word, its both timid and violent) and going to put it in, thats long enough to lose it. Then again, lie there while he tries to jack one on, so to speak.

Why dont i suck it?


For the entirety of our relationship, hes had ED. He blamed the drinking and the pills (antidepressants) at first.

After SO many sexually unsatisfied years, a person is going to grow bitter. Why should i be dying to strain my neck and road rash the inside of my mouth because he cant get it up? Because he jacks off to porn three times a day.

Last night, after being told he was obviously trying to pick a fight with me (because of course i want to lashed out at just then) he stormed out. But not before telling me that i needed to say something comforting and i just laid there instead.

NEWSFLASH, DIPSHIT, im incredibly frustrated, NO part of me was worried about soothing his ego last night.

The excuse for the last two nights was he was tired. Because he stays up very late at night playing video games/falling asleep on the couch. He didnt add that second part, but it is certain sure fact.

I guess from the sounds of it, i shouldnt want a kid with him. But im married and im 30. Why dont i get to have a baby because we dont have the money? How much longer do i wait for him to grow up?

Im so hungry. The coffee is giving me a headache. I could have borrowed money from a coworker, i guess, but the thought of humiliating myself like that, on top of everything else, id start crying before i even started. My mom would ALWAYS make ME go beg. Not her, she was embarrassed. Even into adulthood. Can your boyfriend’s parents help with your car insurance? We told you we would cover it while you put yourself through college, but of course that was bullshit, my dad talking loudly so others would hear.

Im hungry. Itll be all right when i get home. But why, WHY, is that all my life is? Just get through high school, then you’ll be able to get away from him. Just get through college, then you’ll get a good job and will be stable, a new sensation in your life. Just wait for your husband to finish college, then hell start actually contributing instead of the opposite. Just wait until he finds a job. Just wait until….and then….Theres no then.I just wasted an hour upsetting myself.Maybe i deserve constant frustration, for some reason i cannot see

Being born isn’t an achievement

But some people get rewarded like it is. I guess I shouldn’t point fingers. A lot of people would look at me and be like “sure, there was no genetic gambling that you won big on….” My mom always says “it’s too bad we were born beautiful and not rich” and of course she means it as a joke, but it’s like…kind of true in my case. It’s funny because younger me never would have guessed I’d grow up to be this confident (say arrogant if you must, I don’t mind the label, plus any of my astute readers have a real good idea of why I’m insecure and arrogance is the veil of the insecure soooooo….) . See because I used to take the constant social rejection as a sign I just wasn’t good looking enough. Yeah, I don’t think that was it. But I mean I still lived with my narcissistic psychopath of a dad back then, so it made every aspect of my life warped, including my perception of the behavior of others, and my ability to express emotions in a proper or healthy way. Okay we all know I still have extreme trouble with that second one but bear with me, I’m only 30. Well almost. We are still trying to get pregnant. I saw my in laws on Sunday and out of the blue my MIL brought up that she would pay for daycare if we had kids, because she doesn’t want us to not have kids because we’re worried about paying for them. She said it’s not because she wants grandkids but because she knows we’d be great parents. That’s my in laws, always dropping this mind blowing generosity on us/me. I had like a fairy tale wedding(as much as they know about it) and it was solely due to them.

Okay gotta to work now, these were just some pre work thoughts I had about how unfair it is that some people are just born fucking rich as fuck. What dicks.


Someone to tell

Loss makes the ordinary tragic.

When her son died, my Grandma told me how (not in these words) it broke her heart all over again whenever she thought of something she wanted to tell him. They would talk on the phone every night. She spent a lot of her evenings on her cord telephone with her kids, now that I think about it.

I was supposed to be that for my mom, as well as her daughter. It was impossible so I quit both. Now, we have more of a real parent child thing going. I think in part because I’ve started telling her more. Because I have no one else to talk to. Because I mean, especially after this past Christmas, it’s kind of obvious my best friend and I are now that “acquaintance from back in the day” situation. Which is all right, I’m sure we won’t ever live near one another again anyway. But without her, I have 1 person left.

And I mean you can say it’s my fault, but if you’ve gathered even a scrap of what I’ve been laying down….you’ll see I made the one sane choice

But still, pretty lonely

When making conversation turns tragic

When I email my mom, I’m sometimes at a loss for things to talk about. There are clearly things I don’t mention to her, and certain topics we’re always hashing over. One thing I like to tell her about is what crafts I’m working on or want to work on. Today I mentioned to her that I wanted to make a few things for Valentine’s Day, since every house is going to look so bare after Christmas comes down. She responded in a way I know wasn’t meant to devastate but it did anyway. She said she sure wished we could work on them together.

Yeah, to a lot of people it’s twelve shades of pathetic that it makes me want to cry, this very simple notion that I would like to do mundane effeminate tasks with my mom, and I cannot. I venture any of those people are not in my situation.

No one is in my situation. There’s a reason I talk to a blog about this. And everything else. I mean what we call a life like mine? Cassie spends first eighteen years with unstable abusers who are so mired in debt they’ll never get out….to grow up and just do the same shit all over.

Wish I didn’t have to craft alone.

Wish I could see my mom.

Wish my worthless father would just die. Not that he’s even sick. Of course not. Life is notoriously cruel.

Attempts have been made

But, like I obsess about, there’s only so many hours in a day. And now that I have a second, at-home job my mind is constantly fixated on working on creative projects. It used to happen as soon as the semester started, then it would die off by the time final papers were turned in. So I haven’t earned a cent from my at home job in weeks, but I’ve been writing every day. When I can. After I bike before I make dinner. With laptop set up on the kitchen table so my husband can play video games in the living room without distracting me. As much as I can on the weekends. Sometimes I regret that I learned long, long ago that cleanliness=happiness, because it goes the other way too. It could be worse, but it still bothers me.

I do think of this blog often, though I’m sure you can’t tell. But the time that was once devoted to my 1750 word blogs is funneled elsewhere. I’m aware it’s hilarious I talk about how I want kids yet I can’t stop myself from complaining about not having any time. I have no delusions about the stress of motherhood.

Also it could be argued I’m on this blog less because I have less I need to tell internet strangers about. I still haven’t told another soul about the incidents of last July. Because I still maintain that my husband freaking out on me (a backlash for my whole heartedly attacking him) was worse than when I cornered him into admitting what he did.

I guess a person would say it hasn’t been all that long, that I’m expecting better from someone who has proven they’re not better.

But I mean, emotions aside aren’t the two options to get over something or to not? And if you get over it you have to figure what you want, like is this too much to forgive? Do I just leave? Do I make him leave? What if that’s not what you want?

Not that I knew why I wanted that, but I can imagine now it probably had something to do with the idea that I do love him. And practically, I’m not starting over, I’m not explaining my family situation to an outsider. I don’t like doing that. Not because I don’t want to talk about it, but because it makes other people so uncomfortable, and then it just turns awkward. I guess most people don’t fantasize about one of their parents dying every day. But I do. I also work on a novel every day, and am never not thinking about my characters like they’re real fucking people. So clearly I’m all sorts of special.

I’ve been having my husband read the excerpts I’ve deemed ready. He likes it so far, is good at pointing out when I’m getting confusing, but it is SO strange hearing someone else say their names.

It’s lived in my head too long, I’ve thought about them too much. If I don’t write their story I’ll probably go insane, not from the weight of my own genius but from the steering disappointment in myself.

So, one day Cassie Stevens’ picture will grace the back cover of a novel, until then I have so much else to work on I’d have to be crazy to ever think myself bored.

Things are all right with my husband and I. He hasn’t snuck out and had sex with a stranger from Craigslist since July…so…..

well lunch is almost over. I’ll make attempts to do this more during lunch, which is more than enough time for me to eat but it’s also sacred reading time. I just finished Drown by Junot Diaz, and I’m very sad there’s nothing else of his for me to read.


Check in? Idk

Well, as you can see I’m lunch break writing. The entirety of last week’s spare time was dedicated to training for that at home job. It was a week of getting up at 5:30 and getting home from training at 9:30. I’m just excited to have an opportunity to make money at home. Of course while the dozen of us from various departments were training, someone was like oh [executive] was wondering if his daughter (who does not work for us) could do this? I got so mad. That job is an incentive/reward for being an employee in good standing with our company but no of course not, not for his daughter, she deserves a really awesome cushy job because of who she’s related to. Luckily the trainer was like oh no we tried that once with [different executive’s] wife and it didn’t work out. I tried to figure out why it made me so mad. I guess it’s because if you are handed the opposite of breaks/opportunities from your family (they handed me nothing but hindrances, that’s how I like to think of them) you tend to scorn those who get and take them.

I also find that I’m filled with scorn when I’m told how “lucky” I am to have my job. Luck didn’t have shit to do with it, I didn’t win my job in a contest or have it given to me because someone made a phone call. I earned it through years of turmoil and strenuous effort and pain. Had I not been also dealing with the emotional fall out that is my family those years would’ve been a lot easier. But it doesn’t matter now.

So now I go home and work out then get some chores done then bill until I make dinner, then I bill after dinner. I desperately need money so pretty much as much as possible is what I’m after right now. I need to work like 20 minutes of writing in there too, but I’m still acclimating.

My next non creative writing project is going to be writing a letter to w. I think narcissists might not even have the chance to be self aware. It’s not that I think it’ll fix him or even make a slight improvement, people like him can’t change, it’ll make me feel better, though, to once and for all let him know why I refuse to have anything to do with him. You know because he’s toxic garbage and will never get better and he just pollutes and infects and abuses those too stupid to leave his presence. He sure has his captives though, my mom and brother lack the strength and intelligence it takes to abandon your family because they’re rotten and they’re going to rot you the first chance they get. More later