DUDE aka I was right, you know

Therapy. Was. Awesome.

It’s only a $30 copay with no deductible. Even on our worst weeks we can swing that.

Pretty excited.

I was right, you know.

That was what I wanted.

Too bad I fucked around for so long with other shit. And other people. I wanted a dude therapist. Fucking shocking.

Do I tell him about the blog?

I’m sure you’ll come up.

Oh well what you gonna do.

Peace out lovely sluts

~Cassie

Well. I figured out like 20% of my issue.

So. Like, idk, the idea fucking came at me that what I’ve really been looking for all these years is a therapist. I started picturing what it would be like to bitch to someone for an hour about my parents and childhood and husband and drinking problem and weird sex habits and holy shit I started feeling better just thinking about it.

So trial and error after a few dead ends I find a counselor guy nearby who takes my insurance so tomorrow is my first appointment with him. We’ll see how it goes. I’m super not thrilled that it’ll cost me about $50 per week to see him. Why is it that if I want an hour of pole dancing and an hour of therapy it’s $72 a week??? Isn’t that insane sounding? I feel like it’s insane sounding.

Not going to lie I’m really really really uneasy about it, about going, for some reason. No actual reason why. That I can consciously identify other than the effort it’ll involve and the fact that the winter has been especially grueling this week. I try not to let it get me down but it’s also hard to want to leave your house if it’s -25 outside.

So. Therapy tomorrow. With a guy. Finally. The three times in my life that I’ve tried therapy/counseling before it’s been with women. No wonder it didn’t work. So we’ll see.

Yeah. There’s just SO. MUCH. TO. UNPACK.

Will let you know how it goes.

~Cassie

I sent it

I don’t think we should stay together.

I don’t think we’re good together or good for each other. I think we’re both just clinging to this marriage to prove something to ourselves, or about ourselves. Do you even love me? To me, a person cannot love someone and have such a shocking and frightening level of stored up resentment. It just KEEPS HAPPENING. I don’t want to hear about how bad you feel. I don’t want to hear how you’re going to change. I don’t want to hear how I mean more than anything in the world to you.

I DONT BELIEVE ANY OF IT. Why would I? How stupid would I have to be to think it would somehow be different this time?

And before you flip the tables and make me the monster and you the victim, as you HAVE to do, any time you profusely apologize you’re just waiting for your turn to freak out and act like a shitty imbecile who bashed their head against the furniture to accentuate a point.

Have you ever been afraid of me? Have you ever stood in front of me and started running it through your mind how fast you’d have to dart out of the way if I grabbed you,

Or shoved you, again? Have you ever wondered “is this is? Is this when she finally starts hitting me?”

I do NOT want to hear how you don’t hate me.

You do.

You’re in denial. Or it’s latent, but you fucking despise me. No one would say what you’ve said to me over and over or act the way that you have if you didn’t. You don’t know why you acted that way? I DO.

Everything is broken and I have no interest in picking up the pieces, not this time, not when this is just set to happen again and again and again until one of us is dead.

Did you think if you’re just 100% nice and loving and helpful for a few days I’ll give in like I always do and we go back to pretending like everything is fine? It’s not fine. I’m not fine. Just like when we drove home from our wedding weekend, these past few days I’ve been hoping I would die soon so I could just not deal with this.

You hate me.

I deserve better than being with someone who hates me.

You should not want to be with me, it’s just some attachment you formed because being married to me makes you feel good about yourself. You don’t actually love me. You could not possibly.

And there’s no fixing that.

We’ll talk more about it whenever I see you next and I’m sober.

My plan today is to find a place to drink after work and then come home absolutely plastered.

Then, after tonight, we’ll see how much YOU still want to be married to me.

Guys. I came home to quite the drunk shit show. It’s still ongoing.

So it was -4 when i drove to work this morning. It was a whopping 13 when I drove home at 4pm.

And what do I see upon pulling into my driveway?

My husband in nothing but sweatpants. No shirt or shoes or socks or anything. He’s shoveling the sidewalk. So I yell at him, because it seems VERY stupid be be dressed as such in such cold weather and especially doing something that we always leave neglected so who cares?

I’m pissed before I’m in the house because I know. He’s shit faced. He has to be.

Then I on instinct lock the front door. He takes it as a sign I locked it on purpose, then when i insist otherwise, then he changes it to i I distinctly didn’t think of him and locked the door.

Then let’s see. It all deteriorated so fast. Because he does this thing when he’s wasted where he WONT leave me alone. Even if I like fucking scream at him to get out of my face, he’ll leave the room for s minute then be back. Like he can’t NOT antagonize me. And boy did he pull out the big guns today. I was told at least five times I was acting exactly like my father.

His pathetic attempts to wound me are sickening, if little else.

He drank what can be sure was a few beers and a pint of brandy after he got home from work.

The worst was around 5pm, because I started yelling back. I really don’t take it for long. And I’m not afraid of him. I’m just not. I’ve lost too much respect along the years. Anyway.

At 5 he did he usual just scream at me and act super weird and talk in the worlds most annoying tone of voice and then of course threaten to leave. He probably would have left if my car hadn’t been blocking the way. He told me he was driving to his parents. As much as I would love for his useless ass to be with them right now, there’s no way he would’ve made it. He would’ve died or killed someone else or close to it even attempting that drive. So I told him if he tried to leave I would call the cops and he’d get pulled over before he hit the highway and then he’d get to explain his dui to his parents from jail as he asked them to pay to bail him out. That seemed to work, because after that he let it go about leaving. That’s one of his go to drunk shitty things. There’s a lot of them. He did a lot of them today.

Then at some point he went out to the garage and was out there awhile, then he came inside and was in our bathroom a long time. Then he moved to the couch.

I went to use the finally vacant bathroom. He pissed on the lid of the closed toilet. There’s piss everywhere except IN the toilet. I used his bath towel to clean it up. I washed it, but the principle.

So that’s what’s happening.

Imma be the BIGGEST CUNT HES EVER SEEN about all this

He complains and complains about how I’m ALWAYS so angry?

Ahahahahah

I’ll show a mother fucker angry

If I’m so goddamn horrible why doesn’t he leave? Like seriously. Tf seems like I need him for, anyway? Because if I was alone there wouldn’t be someone to disappoint me and not listen when I talk?

Fuck today and fuck my life kids

~Cassie