Can You Live a Lie?

I'll admit it--I've read a couple of articles about Tiger's divorce. His ex wife, (one moment while I look up the spelling of her name...), Elin, has stated that she feels like she lived a lie. There are all kind of nasty comments that she should have known, she sold her soul for money, blah, blah. I totally get the concept of feeling like your life was a lie. I still struggle with the fact that what I thought was real, was lies from May of 2004 to October of 2007. It's a weird feeling. Like being in a coma. I know I have referenced the Red Flags throughout the blog. They were Delayed Red Flags. Well, they were there. I didn't see them. I needed Magic Decoder Glasses to see the Red Flags!

I used to lie awake at night and  run things through my mind--particularly all the things I found out about other women and finances. I will think about all the guys golf weekends, trips to New Orleans and all the times I couldn't get him on the phone. It used to drive me crazy. Now I'm done. It is in the past. I can't go back and change it.

So was my life a lie for 3.5 years? Some could say that John's life was a lie. Not mine. I worked my ass off at being a good Step Mom and Wife. I busted my ass at work in a really stressful job. I made efforts to fit into a culture that felt like part third world country, part sorority and part Beverly Hillbillies. People--I was in a Mardi Gras Krewe! I tried, damn it! I shit you not...

Can someone "live" a lie? I'm not sure. I have to think the liar has to face his or her thoughts at night just like we all do. As I drift off to sleep, I think about the day, the past, what I need to do the next day. Doesn't a person who cheats and lies do the same thing? How's Tiger sleeping? Does Special Ops Boy get into bed and sweat as he lays next to his wife and his baby cries? How did John sleep next to me? How did he sit across the dinner table?  Who knows. That is their shit. All I can do is think about my thoughts. I am choosing to not see that I "lived a lie" for over 3 years. I lived like I always do--doing the best I can and always trying to be a better person.

Don't Date Him Girl

I have got a website for you--Don't Date Him Girl. It is the best. Women post warnings about guys. It is total GIRL POWER! 

http://dontdatehimgirl.com/home/

Here is a screen shot to give you an idea of what it looks like:

I will tell you what...I have been giving apple-shift-4 command a workout lately. What would my blog be without screenshots?  This fine specimen happens to be a guy one of my friends dated last year. He called her today because his present GF read it. Too funny. My friend had forgotten she posted this. She has moved on! Notice the website conveniently directs you where to go for rehab after you read about an alcoholic. Genius!

I am thinking I could come up with a similar site...it would be called Don't MARRY Him Girl. Or better yet, GIRL DON'T YOU KNOW HE IS FUCKING MARRIED?.com

Even Porn Queens Need Closure

I could not sleep last night. I did the try to read, turn on the TV dance. I came across a delightful show on HBO called Cathouse. If you are not familiar with this little gem--it is a show about a brothel in Nevada. It is run by a disturbing man named Dennis. He looks like a bloated version of Mr. Clean. On this episode, one of Dennis' old employees and ex-girlfriend (Sunset Thomas) came to see him. She had left without having closure years before. He would cheat on her and it drove her crazy. It made me sad to see her get ready to see him. It was obvious she was nervous. I watched as she walked up to the Cathouse in her suit (that was barely covering her butt) with her hair in a bun (looking conservative) and it hit me...it doesn't matter what we do, (porn stars, prostitutes, waitresses, nurses, sales reps, doctors, scientists) we hurt in a very similar way. 

A few years back I got to know a woman that was hurt by an ex friend of mine. She is an accomplished physician. She has written several papers and went to a prestigious school. I remember thinking, "Wow, she is so brilliant and she still is wasting time on that idiot!" How funny is it that I thought spinning your wheels on a guy was reserved for the common folk? I am saying that with tongue in cheek, but I did have a belief that the super intelligent didn't mess with such things. I don't know why I thought that. There are so many examples of women scorned from all walks of life. Some of the public ones--the astronaut lady (forgot her name, you know, the one that will go down in history as the diaper wearer), Hillary Clinton (oh no--that starts me on a whole list of political wives),  Jenny Stanford, Elizabeth Edwards, Jackie O.,and now celebs-- Elin Woods, Elizabeth Hurley, Jennifer Aniston, Shania Twain, Reese Witherspoon, and last, Tampa folk--Polly's across the street neighbor with a newborn baby, 1 nurse practitioner I know and 2 doctors,...ugh, the list goes on and on. 

I found a funny site while googling "women scorned". Check out the picture of the lady on the left:

http://www.thefrisky.com/post/246-what-scorned-women-have-done-to-get-even/

The hurt is no different for Sunset as she works in the sex industry or the doctor I mentioned works in the lab all day.

Sunset Thomas...you are much better off without the Bloated Mr. Clean. I bet he owns a ManGroomer™!

Same As It Ever Was

I had a Lynn appointment this afternoon. It's kinda funny--when I made it a few weeks ago, I thought to myself, "I may have to reschedule this, things are good, I don't think I'll have anything to talk about." She greeted me in the waiting room and I made my way up the stairs to her office. I sat down. She smiled and asked what I wanted to talk about. My mouth opened, words and f bombs flew. She sat there quietly listening. I covered a lot of ground in less than 5 minutes. She quietly said, "you associate this with John." I told her I didn't think I said that. This is what I did say--"cheating, lying, cheating, lying, liar, fucker, liar, fuck, liar, liar, married, what about his wife, ew, gross, pig, all men are pigs, fuck, fucking, fuckers." Okay, maybe she had a fucking point. I told her how pissed off I was at myself for putting my head in the sand. I told her I wasn't naive in thinking he wasn't celibate, but FUCKING MARRIED!? and I didn't not have a choice in deciding if I wanted to participate in his extra martial affair (the woman who started a blog about cheating!) Lynn talked about how the mind tells itself what it wants to hear. I had not had sex with anyone else in almost a year. I thought he was safe. I thought he was a decent guy. She said it was easier for me to beleive that he was married to his job vs. the reality that he was truly married. EW. She also brought up my belief that "All Men Are Pigs". I told her that I had even emailed that question to my ex (Duke--recall, he's a right WANKER). We talked about the fact that all men are not pigs and discussed examples of non-pig men. She asked me who was my ideal man--I had to say Joe DuBois. Luckily she watched Medium and knew of Joe. Ironically, Joe is a very normal guy. We really zeroed in on my fear of a "real" relationship. She also said how great it was that my gut told me something wasn't right with this guy. Okay, I was starting to not be so hard on myself and see the positives. I learned a valuable lesson--if something seems too good to be true (i.e. that SOB was safe), it probably isn't true.  

Funny, that the shit I was working on a year ago (i.e. the fear of being hurt again) is still here. Same as it ever was (envision Talking Heads guy, David Byrne doing that motion down his arm). Suppress it and it will always pop back up. Things could be much worse--I could be In Haiti or Chile or in Special Ops Bastard's mind....

Interestingly, Lynn brought up the fact that I was cynical. I call it funny...again, she had a point. She said how my humor was a coping mechanism. I told her that the "shitting fish sticks'' phrase had brought me tons of enjoyment. I think it may have eclipsed all ManGroomer™ humor. She agreed that SOB's stomach may be a bit upset this week. Back to cynicism. It is funny I wrote about sarcasm the other day.I've always been the class clown. The one that makes everyone laugh. Take that away and I am NAKED!

So, moving forward...I have reservations at Season 52 tonight (the new "in" place). We will be taking a taxi. I will start hair and makeup in about an hour. GreenLight Cards will be in my purse. I won't be ordering the fish...

Worried Well Woman™

I would like to thank all my dear readers for the emails with phrases like, "I can't believe SOB is married. What a cocksucker!", "You should go with an enlisted man next time; officers are used to getting what they want" and "Hopefully his wife is fucking around on him while he's deployed."  

So, what is "Worried Well Woman"? I called to make an appointment with my gyn and the lovely receptionist in her perky voice asked, "What will we be seeing you for?" Shit. How do I say, "Well... I would fuck this guy on and off. He seemed sane. I made the mistake of trusting someone that I really didn't know that well. You see, he got married while he was fucking me and neglected to share that tid-bit. I suspect I'm not the only one because data shows that cheaters like to have lots of variety. I have analyzed him and he has low self esteem (he fished for compliments...oh yeah, RED FLAG) so, I am sure he would screw around whenever he could. Also, I am sure he is the typical Navy cliche of a girl in every port. I didn't really like him, but I have been afraid to give my heart to anyone again so, just screwing seemed safe. So... that is what you will be seeing me for--to make sure I don't have some disturbing STD." In reality I just said,"Well, the person I was with...". Perky receptionist jumped right in and said, "Say no more, we call that the Worried Well Woman™ Visit!" I breathed a sigh of relief. There is a name for everything....

What Would James Bond Do?

This guy KILLS me!  I could listen to him all day. He is sarcastic which is funny...

I LOVE the INTERNET!!!

All I did was go to my friend Google...hate the still shot but it will get my pig guy friends to look at it.

Mind Games

I am taking a meditation class with Sulie. During the first class last on Thursday night we had a guided mediation. We were told that we were walking through a deserted villa. The meditation took you through the villa where you could imagine redecorating it just the way you want. After the meditation we were asked what we saw and what we thought. Everyone smiled and they told stories of beautiful gardens, flowers, beautiful interiors...shit!, all I saw was the kitchen from the house in Lafayette. I would close my eyes and the villa that was supposed to be old and deserted kept coming up as a spotless kitchen. I squeezed my eyes shut and kept trying to get back to the "villa". Where the hell was my villa! Why am I seeing things from 2 years ago? I am done with that--I've moved on! I had an appointment with Lynn on Friday. I told her how all I could see was the kitchen from Louisiana. I could see the computer (where I pulled up all the gruesome adult sites, emails, and Pao's myspace page). I saw the island and the bar stools where the boys would sit and talk to me after school. It was the room I was in as I sobbed to Sulie and Birch on the phone. It was the room where John came in that morning and I screamed at him. Ironically, it was the first room I packed. I started with books and moved on to pots and pans. In my mind's eye I keep seeing the wine refrigerator John insisted on getting. It reminded me that when we met he didn't really drink wine (he was more into appearances). The last day I left Louisiana, I went back into the house to make sure that I had gotten everything. I went into the master closet and their was a duffel bag on the floor. I looked inside and it contained clothes for a trip along with a bottle of one of my favorite Pinot Noirs (from the kitchen that I had bought!)  Ugh. This was before I was calm...I threw away the cologne in the bag, as well as, all the other bottles he had in his bathroom drawers. Okay, I think it is clear what that kitchen symbolizes.

Lynn talks about addressing things that bother you by addressing the sensation. Historically I would look at something like the John situation and go off on what a scumbag he is, cheater, liar, how could he do this to me, blah, blah, blah. If I look at the sensations I had back when I used to think about John, it would be: my chest would flush, my cheeks would burn, my heart would race, my fists would clench and my hands would sweat. Really nice. Very painful. For that type of feeling Lynn told me to think of something that I am completely indifferent to. She uses the example of a big, white moth flying around. She says she would see it and be "whatever." Mine is a baseball game.  Whatever. Total indifference. I flip right on past the channel if there is a baseball game on T.V. I just don't care. That feeling of total indifference is the goal. It sounds too easy, but it works. The key is remembering the sensation you felt and replacing it with the feeling of indifference. Not the event or the person that you made you upset. I need reminding since it is the exact opposite of how I have reacted my whole life. Now when I am aggravated I think to myself, "what is the sensation I'm feeling?"

Lynn said that during my next appointment we will work on erasing that memory of the Lafayette kitchen. She said it would involve me completely redoing that room in my mind.I am telling you the mind is an amazing thing. Bring the eraser on!

Oprah, Cialis and Pictures--Oh My!

I tape Oprah every day. I am watching one tonight on women who were betrayed by their spouses. Many of you have written to me about how reading the posts have helped you as you deal with the realization that your spouse or partner has cheated. The stories on this particular episode make John look like a saint. One woman just made a point that really resonated with me. She said she felt like the betrayal cancelled out all the happy memories. I totally relate to that. I remember sitting down at John's lap top and hitting "select all" and deleting all the pictures of us together. He was so angry. He sent me numerous emails telling me that I had "taken away all his memories." I responded, "you took away my trust, my self esteem and most importantly my family." He never got it and he never will. He was focused on pictures that showed what concerts he attended, where he traveled, and the parties we had. It was all a lie. Oooh...Oprah just said, "Red Flag!" She wanted to know if the betrayed woman saw the red flags. I just remembered another one. It is embarrassing to admit, but I get to hide behind the name Penelope and a cartoon. One weekend I was visiting John. I went to Lafayette. Usually we stayed in New Orleans or we went to the camp. I can remember it vividly. I was in the master bath. I sat down to pee and I glanced down at the trash. On top of the crumpled trash was an empty prescription bottle. We were planning to get married. I knew John didn't take any prescription meds. I leaned over and read the label-Cialis (in the same class as Viagra--to make the winkie hard). I grabbed the bottle. It had John's name on it and a date less than a month prior. It was for 5 pills and was written by his friend Marc, an ER physician. I was still sitting. My heart raced. John never had issues in the erection department. This was weird. My hands started to sweat. This was after the LSU game incident. Things had been going really well. He knocked on the door and asked me if I was okay. Wait, let me make it real--, "Baby, you okay in there?" I flung the bottle back in the trash, washed and headed out. He was all smiles and asking me if I was ready to go to dinner. This was the trip where we went house hunting in anticipation of my move to Lafayette. This really worried me. We went to the restaurant and I told John I needed to talk to him. I told him what I found and told him I was confused. He was so smooth. "Baby, I got them to use with you. I've moved them into my travel kit." I wasn't satisfied.  I pressed on. I asked why? Had he taken any? There were never issues. He laughed and said his friend Marc said it made things "fun". He turned on the charm. He had this way of making me feel like I was the only woman in the room. I suppressed my worries. It was always in the back of my mind. I'm all over the place, but I know you guys are tracking with me. Back to the subject of betrayal making you feel like all the good times were cancelled out. I had tons of pictures on my lap top. I remember having the courage to open them up after I moved to Tampa. With my glass of wine as reinforcement I clicked on my iphoto. My stomach turned as I looked at our wedding in Jamaica, trips to Las Vegas, Chicago, Seattle, Asheville, D.C., Philadelphia, South Beach, Destin, Mexico, videos of the boys wake boarding, John singing me songs, me dancing...it was all too much. Select all, delete, sip wine, empty trash in photo program, gulp wine, heart racing, stomach churning, turn off lap top. Open bag of tortilla chips. Insert chip after chip into mouth. Drink more wine. I felt like 4 years of my life had been erased. Overnight, I had gone from being a wife, a step Mom and having a "family", to being single and looking for a place to live. Sidebar--when I say "family" I mean the day to day unit I had with John and the boys. Sulie is my family. Oprah just laid a little Maya Angelou down, "People always show you who they are. They will show you over and over again." For example, John is a liar. He lied about his previous 2 marriages to Annie. He lied about why the marriages ended. John is a cheater. He cheated on Annie and I can't tell you how many other stories I heard after I left. He showed me who he was. I chose not to see. Not being hard on myself. Just an observation. Penelope is a work in process. I still have a hard time trusting that the good times were truly "good" times. I talked to Annie about this at length. She had a different perspective because of her boys. she said she had to remember them fondly because of her sons. The more I think about it, I don't know if I even need to put the memories in a "good" box or a "bad" box. I just remembered--I don't save boxes!

I would love to hear what you think on this--comment below or you can send me a personal email by clicking my picture on the left.  XOXO Penelope