Welcome to yet another entry in the unending saga of The Fatal Tiger's pathetic whinings... or something.

This is an entry I started this morning, immediately after the conversation. Enjoy.

Just got done talking with Duncan. That was... Good.

The problem... I'm in a quandary about what to feel/think. My instinct tells me to make it work. To listen to him and be a stable influence. To help him better his life. NOT be his "friend". But to be friendly. Dunno if that distinction is clear to you folks, but it's clear to me.

But then, there's that part of me that would really rather turn up my nose and give him the finger. Not because of him personally, but because of the whore he's still living with.

I have searched my heart and mind. Many times, even, and I find no anger for Duncan. I like that. It is important to me that I hold no bitterness for him. And this is why.

I believe that to harbor bitterness for my ex would damage a future marriage. I don't believe that we should be best friends or anything that pathetic, but I do believe that a civil relationship is healthy. Many of you might not agree with that, but it doesn't matter. I believe that holding on to past pains, negatively colors future happiness.

I want Duncan to be happy and to feel fulfilled in his life. I want him to feel good about himself and to be encouraged by the daily activities of his life. I want him to wake every day, happy and proud of where his life is going. I want his daughter to look at him with pride and adoration. I want her to see a man worth her faith.

I want to see Duncan in love. Truly in love. Not just in need of someone who needs him, but truly and totally in love. (Not with me. Please, please, please, not with me.)

So, why do I have the anger nipping at my heels? Because of Patricia.

So.... what is it that I feel so strongly about her? It is necessary for me to forgive the transgressions in order to truly feel peace and "rightness" in my life. Many people may not agree or understand that bit either, but it is truth in my life.

When I feel anger or hatred in regard to others, my life is uncomfortable and prickly. Kind of like wearing a sub-zero-grade parka in Tahiti. It just isn't right.

The easiest way I've found to forgive, to truly forgive, is to understand exactly what it is that really bites.

Therefore, what is it that I hate so much about Patricia?

She played me.

I bought it

She stole him from me... by trickery and deceit.

She's nearly 18 years older than he.

She carries the demonic spirit.

She's just a bad, bad, bad thing.

I just don't like her because she played me and she's old enough to be his mother.

So, she played me. And I bought it. The two are really too intricately entwined to separate them.

I'm pissed with her because she saw my innocence, naivet� and sickness. ===Sickness being the all consuming depression which had manifested itself in the form of a numbness of spirit. I brought myself to the place where I had simply ceased to feel. (Or maybe I just found myself there, I don't remember how it really got to that point) I didn't feel love, pain, hunger, want, need, sorrow, joy, happiness, or anything else. I was basically dead and withered in every way. That little girl that was inside me had given up on everything. I simply ceased to feel.===

She took advantage of my then-inability to care (I'd been that way, and getting worse, for about three years) claiming friendship and mentorship. She took us all in, so to speak. She saw herself as the mother figure for a band of run-aways. We were her worshippers, so to speak.

There were five of us all together. Shelly, Debbie, Duncan and myself. All as patricia's little groupies. I can't really call myself a groupie, as I didn't adore or worship her, but I did follow along with everyone else. I was just... there.

The five of us got together by meeting up at a Karaoke place. We'd karaoke two or three nights a week. That's how we all met. We started the fat chick's club, so to speak, cause Debbie was 5'6" and 400 lbs. Shelly was 5'5" and about 300 or so, Patricia was approximately 5'3" or so and at about 270 or so. And, then there was me, at 6'1" and 480. Yeah, 80 lbs ago. *Shrugs*

========= Sorry that this is getting very tangent-ified, but I just need to write it all out. That's how I arrive at my conclusions. You all might realize it within two words, but I need to "process" in this fashion... bear with me =========

Anyway, The only time I actually felt anything other than numb, was when I was singing. I would adopt a persona, so to speak. A personal live-action role play, I guess. So I was lively and bright and flirtatious, but it wasn't really ME. It was... *shrugs* I guess it was just a way I could feel. I don't really know yet. Ill figure that out eventually.

Anyway, back to the point. Shelly was the catalyst that introduced Debbie and Patricia to Duncan and Myself. Shelly was the daughter of my parent's friends, thus she knew us. She was in love with Duncan. Had been since the day she'd met him. She never did anything about it. Never flirted with him, as he and I were married and she wouldn't come between that.

Patricia had this believe that in a past life she was the madam in a whore house. She called herself Miss Kitty. And she truly believed that she was this person previously. She was nearly 20 years older than I, and 18 older than Duncan. She really did profess to be motherly and such. In a Madam kind of way.

She said that Debbie, her friend's daughter, had been "one of her girls", as had Shelly. She said that Duncan and I had been married in this past life, that he was a preacher and I was a docile preacher's wife. *Shrugs* I personally don't believe in the whole past lives/reincarnation thing. Never have. And still don't.

Regardless... Patricia intimated that in this past life, Duncan had been a frequent visitor to her cat house. *Shrugs again*

Back to the point, Jen. Keep it on track.

So, Patricia, over the course of about two months, orchestrated group meetings at the apartment Duncan and I shared. The five of us would go back to the apartment, talk and such. Duncan would go to bed, as he had to work the next day, and I would sit in my chair, listening to music, as Shelly, Patricia and Debbie talked and gossiped.

Shelly knew Patricia via the palm readings, tarot readings and aura readings that Patricia did for her. Weekly or more. Yes, Patricia considered herself a psychic. She did my aura once. I can't remember the specifics, but she stated that most people have a blue background with pinpoints of silver-ish light, kinda like a stary sky. Or maybe it was the other way around. I don't remember. But whatever she said the norm was, mine was the opposite, and she didn't know what that meant. She'd never seen it before.

She said that my innermost ring was this strange one, then secondary was some specific color, and on and on and on. She seemed to be honestly surprised by my aura. *Shrugs* Whatever.

She tried running my tarot cards once. I stopped her, saying I didn't want anything to do with that. She seemed to be rather pissed off about that. *Shrugs* Whatever.

She brought me into her "circle" at one point. I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I found out after-the-fact, that it was her coven. That she had been training me to be a part of her witchcraft group. Heh... yeah, we couldn't possibly have seen that one coming, eh? *Rolls her eyes*

Anyway... I stridently prayed against demonic presence in my life. And that's when she started getting sick. Didn't see it coming. Wasn't paying any attention. I was still about 98% numb. Just alive enough to know that something bad was going on at the fringes of my life. Couldn't feel it, but knew something bad was going down. *Shrugs*

So, I withdrew more and more. And Patricia started flirting more heavily with Duncan. I ignored it. Saw it, ignored it. Then one night, Shelly was flirting heavily with Duncan while at karaoke. She'd had a little too much to drink, Duncan came back to the table after a dance with her and said she was making blatant passes at him. I said she wasn't. She was my friend. She wouldn't do something like that.

He told me to watch Shelly and see for myself. I watched. Didn't see anything but dancing. *Rolls her eyes* YES, I am the queen of stupid at times.

So, Duncan sat back down at the table. I looked at him as he was tellin me she was makin blatant passes at him. I watched him for a moment then said, in a flat tone of voice... 'You want to fuck her, don't you?"

He stared at me, then slowly... "You'd give me permission?"

Still didn't see it comin. Didn't see anything. I was so fucking numb. And so completely stupid. *Rolls her eyes, laughing at herself*

So anyway, I told him it was his life and I didn't own him. He was allowed to make his own choices. He made his choice. All of this took place BEFORE I had moved back into the apartment on the premise of "working on the marriage". Oh, the night I told Duncan he was allowed to make his own choices, he took Shelly home and fucked her brains out. I knew this because the people who lived above Duncan, had looked at me the next day, saying that they figured Duncan and I'd been all hot and bothered. That we'd had an awesome session. I blinked and shrugged.

I looked at Duncan once inside the apartment. He had scratches on his back and the biggest-ass grin on his face. I stated, plainly. "So, ya fucked her, huh?" It wasn't a question.

*Shrugs*

Over the previous four months, after the wreck and that subsequent separation from Duncan, I'd lost about 40 lbs. That was a great accomplishment in my opinion. I kept "hanging out" with Patricia, Debbie and Shelly. I moved back in with Duncan in the name of working on our marriage. While Shelly and he were still fucking. I would sit in my chair, headphones on, doing nothing. The depression which had faded while living with the 'rents, recovering from the damned wreck... it was gone inside two days. In TWO WEEKS, I had gained back 35 pounds.

I was even more numb. Any feeling I had at all, disappeared. And Patricia was around all the damned time.

I didn't care about Shelly... or rather, I tried to tell myself I didn't care about her. And I'm not angry with her because she truly was in love with Duncan. *Rolls her eyes* Stupid and foolish, yeah, but she really did want HIM to be happy and fulfilled. She didn't want to hurt ME. And she didn't want to beat me in any way. She didn't want to win anything over me. She just loved Duncan and wanted to share her life with him.

I didn't mind. I figured they'd make a good pair, and I was willing to sort of... Dunno, give him to her, in a manner of speaking.

And, I'm not pissed with Debbie either. I don't like her. I don't like Shelly, but I'm not pissed with either of them. Debbie never even once intimated that she had any character ever. She had been a whore from the age of 12. Voluntary, by her definition. She'd been fucking people for money for a long time and she enjoyed it. She was interested in Duncan simply because he was a body that had a dick. That was her only interest in him. She didn't want to do anything to hurt me and when she saw that I really was irritated, she stopped. She didn't touch him after that.

Regardless... After the two weeks living in that apartment with Duncan and Shelly fucking in the bedroom while I sat in the livingroom with the headphones blasting Danzig's Black Aria into my head, I sort of woke up a little. Dunno why, Dunno how. But I was out at the post office, and I saw Duncan and Shelly together.

One of the requirements I'd made was that the two of them could not "go out". They could not be seen dating in public because that would cause embarrassment to both her parents and mine. I wasn't willing to allow that shit to happen. Hell, we're in a small town. Rumors fly at the drop of a hat. There were rumors as it was, but nothing that could have been proven.

So, when I saw the two of them together, his arm around her, fingers entwined, in the middle of the afternoon, something inside me snapped. I saw them, stared, jaw on the ground. AS if I hadn't seen any of this before. Dunno why it hit me so hard, but it did. Totally knocked the air out of me.

I stared at them, then, when I noticed that Duncan had seen me, I shook my head and turned to my car, wishing that Id turned around just a minute sooner. I was crying. God, I hate that. I was fuckin crying because I saw my husband with his girlfriend. How much more fucked up can you get than that? To be pissed off because you're emotional and feeling betrayed by seeing your husband with his girlfriend. *Laughs at herself, softly*

He came over to my car and asked me what was wrong. I told him nothing was wrong, just go about his business. He wouldn't leave, seeing the tears. After about ten minutes of his telling me to tell him what was bothering me, and my refusing, he finally said, "It does bother you."

I shrugged, cried harder and said yes. Then he said he would break up with her that day. There was more conversation, but I didn't really hear it. I just sat in my car, numb again, refusing to cry anymore. Refusing to feel. It hurt. I didn't want to feel. I just refused.

I didn't find out until a couple weeks or more later, that Duncan hadn't broken up with Shelly, but that she had broken up with him THAT morning. Because she'd shown up at the apartment to see him with glitter all over his face. Patricia was the only one of the group who had been interested in him and who wore glitter. *Shakes her head* Damn it, I was so fucking stupid.

====I suppose I should forgive myself while I'm at it... ====

Regardless... that night, we scheduled a "truth out" for the following Tuesday. We all would get together and tell it all, bare it all. Patricia got "sick" and couldn't be there. Shelly spilled her guts, bawling and laughing intermittently. Duncan listened to her attentively.

Debbie gave her little confession, but it wasn't anything I hadn't seen.

Duncan made his apologies and stated that he couldn't let it go on any more with anyone. Broke up with Shelly that night, supposedly. I waited for everyone to say their piece... to get out what they wanted to, then I looked at Duncan and let it out. I let it all out. Everything that terrified me, everything that pissed me off, everything that Id been ignoring for the previous four years... everything.

Crying the whole damned time

I told Duncan that I didn't know what the future held. I just didn't know. But that I had vowed to God that I would do everything in my power to keep the marriage together. That I'd fucked up and I'd been wrong to stop caring. To get numb. That I was sorry for failing him, but that I would give him everything I had. That I would do everything I possibly could to make it work. That I didn't want to just give up on the marriage.

I told him that I didn't know if we'd be together in another three years, or even in another six months, that I just didn't know what the future held, but that I chose him and that, again, I would do everything I possibly could to make the marriage work.

He didn't look at me even once. I realize now that he'd already made his decision before this "truth out". I just didn't know it then.

I guess that's why I don't feel guilty about the divorce. I supposed that's why I don't bemoan the fact that I failed the one thing that was most important in my life. (I believed then, and still do, that the person you're married to isn't half as important as the fact that you're married. That the marriage is sacred and is more important than either spouse) I gave my absolute best. I committed myself to him fully and completely.

He was the one who chose to turn down that "gift". He chose 'no". Therefore, I guess I "feel" as if I did my part. Dunno. Don't really have the energy or inclination to actually go into that particular line at this moment.

Shelly and Debbie took off. I'd given him everything I possibly could, knowing I was broken. I'd told him that I needed his help, cause I couldn't fix me and the marriage too, all by myself.

He didn't nod.

He didn't look at me.

When I had stopped speaking, I reached out to touch his arm. He pulled away from me, picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

Emotions hit me like sledgehammers. Violent and angry and so...... hurt.

For an hour and a half, I had been real and honest and raw and out there and figuratively on my knees before him, laying my sins at his feet and begging forgiveness for my failures. He didn't even see me.

I closed my eyes and fought everything I was to shove the emotions back inside, back in their little box. It hurt too much to know that this man who had at one time loved me completely, couldn't even hear me now.

I was already dead to him, it seemed. And I understand. Fuck, he'd lived with an emotionally dead wife for damned near two years. I'd just gotten progressively worse.

So, I got up and went to bed that night. I was crying. Curled up tightly, tears streaming in silence down my face. He came into the bedroom and for half a moment I thought maybe we did have a chance. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to save his marriage. One last grab at the rope swinging two miles above my head.

I turned toward him, watching him for a moment. I called his name. He got in bed, grabbed up the remote for the TV in the bedroom. Turned on the TV. He hadn't even heard me. I reached out to touch him. He pulled away.

I turned over, curled up tightly, cried silently, tears streaming. And I shut down again. I systematically went through every part of my mental/emotional life, cutting off all the wires. I refused to feel ever again.

Damn that hurt.

====How many fucking times am I going to rehash this bullshit before I get it out of my system, eh? What is this? The fifty-millionth time I've complained about this same situation. Damn... I'm so much better off now than I was three years ago. *Rolls her eyes* sooooooooooo much better off.====

The next day, he got home from work, I met him in the hallway. Unbeknownst to me, he'd had lunch at Patricia's apartment. *Shrugs* some petty, foolish part of me perked to hear him come in the door and I went to talk to him, to welcome him home, as if there were some stupid chance that maybe he'd change his mind. I should have recognized the glitter. But I didn't.

He looked at me and instead of a greeting, he said, "So, when are you going to move out?"

For about three seconds I felt like I'd been gut punched, but reflex took over and I ignored it, speaking evenly and quietly. "I'll be packed and gone by the weekend."

I packed and was ready to move out. But I still hung out with them. I would sit there in that chair. I had risen back to my former weight inside two weeks. All the life I'd regained... gone. In two weeks.

======== I'll probably continue this some other time. I'm really, really, really tired of writing it and I'm not thinking clearly anymore. I just need to stop.========

suffice it to say, I left.

Of course, none of this has really anything to do with the real reason I hold animosity and hatred for Patricia still..... but Ill get into that later. I think I need to be writing it on paper. Sometimes the thoughts flow in a more orderly fashion when I write on paper.

Til next time, folks.....

Thanks for hanging on to this long-ass diatribe.

Peace unto thy hearts.

PS... what you'll see in the next post on this matter, is that the conversation with Duncan this morning was very good and refreshing. It was nice to see him and feel no hurt or hatred. I WILL figure out why I'm really pissed off with Patricia when I' m not pissed with Shelly or Debbie, but that will wait. I have a feeling it might be because Patricia tricked me. It might very well be my own feeling of guilt and embarrassment of buying into Patricia's claims of friendship and loyalty to ME, when her focus was Duncan all the time. *Shrugs* Ill figure that out on another day. Peace to you all.