1.Where crazy comes from

1.Where crazy comes from

Nobody starts out crazy. We’re not born out of the vag or tummy being like, “I think I want to be a psycho when I get older. I want to hate everyone around me, not trust anyone, and live in a world full of shit.” At least I didn’t. And maybe I don’t “necessarily” hate “everyone”, but shit, in this world, I’m telling you, there’s a lot of serious dislike.

And I’m not crazy. At least, I’ve never been diagnosed as such. Of course, I’ve never gone to a doctor to test that theory. So we’re going to call me “not crazy.” But the problem is, I feel crazy. I feel it every day. I overthink waaaay too much, panic over the most ridiculous things, worry about everything, and am constantly stressed. But being an adult is being stressed. I know this. It’s not all rainbows, unicorns, and fluffy kittens out here in the adult world. We’re all struggling to make ends meet, pay our bills, work our worthless and underpaid jobs, just trying to make it through one day at a time.

But see, it wasn’t always like this for me. I had a pretty good life, as far as typical lives go. When I was 18, I was stationed in Japan. In 2011, I got out of the military on pregnancy. My boyfriend was in the military as well and we got pregnant. Okay, well I got pregnant.

I know what you’re thinking. Dumb ass teenager went and became a statistic. Can’t use a fucking condom. Irresponsible. And maybe that is the case. Yes, I was young. Did I bite off more than I could chew? Probably. Who doesn’t at some point in their lives? But, I became pregnant on purpose. And it wasn’t to trap my boyfriend. He was aware of it. This was no accident. This was a conscious decision made by two baby adults. You see, when I was 17, my sister had a beautiful baby boy that lived with me and my parents. I spent the first year of my nephew’s life with him. I had not had much experience with babies beforehand. But shortly after my sister brought him home, I fell in love.

Have you ever experienced something in your life and you think to yourself, “This is what I am meant to do.” ? For me, that was being a mom. I can remember the exact moment I wanted to be a mother. My nephew was maybe a week or two and I was in a recliner, with my nephew laying on my chest. No one else was around. I was softly patting his back as his squishy little face nestled into my chest. I was singing quietly to him. I believe the first song I sang to him was called “With Eyes Wide Shut,” by blessthefall. I was an alternative girl, so my music tastes are a little strange to some, especially when looking at me.

I watched his little eyes flutter open and closed, trying to fight sleep, but not making a sound. They finally closed and he lay there, tiny breaths escaping his chest. He look so tranquil, and my heart melted. Even though we had just met and he’d only been in this world for a couple of weeks, I felt so connected to him, and absolutely fell in love. “I want this. I want to be a mom. I want to be one right now.”

Mature seventeen year old I was, I deperately wanted a baby. From that point, I fell in love with babies everywhere. You know those movies like Baby Mama and How To Be Single when these women who want babies start hallucinating babies everywhere? Basically, that was me. Now, I wasn’t seeing full-blown hallucinations (Thank God), but there was an ache inside, knowing desperately I wanted one of my own.


12. Against The Grain.

I began to talk to this guy almost every day. We’ll call him…Jesse. We began to play this game asking questions about each other. I learned he was from out of state, that he lived in his dad’s house and lived a ways from where I was at. Over the next few days, I found myself stumbling onto his profile almost a little more than necessary. I looked through his pictures so I could really get a good look at the guy I was talking to every night.

He was becoming cuter and cuter to me the more we talked. He was definitely wasn’t my type. He sagged his pants (which I fucking hated) and liked a lot of rap. But then again, they say that opposites attract.

We decided to go and meet up at a concert. We arranged rides to get there. I remember sitting at the venue, eagerly waiting for his appearance. Then I saw him. I could tell he saw me too. He smiled and turned away shyly. Okay, I thought to myself. I’m gonna have to make the first move on this one. I was not used to this. Being married had definitely done a number on my dating skills. Of course, I never dated much to begin with.

I walked up to him at the bar. He turned to look at me, said hi, and looked away. He was definitely shy. I believe I asked him to go sit at a table together. He said yes and we started talking. I don’t know what we talked about, but I remember I was extremely flirtatious. I kept my hand on his thigh, whispering in his ear (also, it was a show so it was loud. The key is to not be too sexy). I remember asking him if I could kiss him. Lord knows he wasn’t gonna do it on his own. This boy needed some help. He nodded and I made my mood.

The sensation that coursed through my body was amazing. The kiss was different, for I had not made out with anyone with facial hair and he had more than I had ever been used to. I deepened the kiss and remember running my hand through his hair. Then, I, ever so classily, took his hand and put it in front of my leggings. This was to be my new persona. I could literally be whoever I wanted with this guy. I wanted to be bold, sexual, and desirable. He was the first one I had ever met that I could be that way with. It was dangerous, naughty, and tons of fun. Excellent date.

I told him he could come back to Hannah’s place that night, if he wanted to. He did, but knew he’d have to ask his dad. He literally waited until his dad was about to drop me off and got out of the car and told him he’d be back home the next day.

And then he never left.

That is the story of how I met the man that would someday become my entire world, unbeknownst to myself.

11. An unlikely alliance.

This was the first time I’d spoken to Hannah since I manipulated her into talking my husband about divorce. This girl, she was the start of it all. She was married to a guy I remember my husband talking about when he talked of their past relationship. She had two children, a boy and girl, just like me. Her situation was very similar to mine. She was about the same size as me, post-baby. She was married, had two kids. I couldn’t understand why my husband had chosen to ruin our marriage over this.

She was exactly the same as me. She wasn’t any skinnier, any prettier, just equal. Why then, why did I get cheated on? How was this better? I still won’t ever know.

Hannah was surprisingly kind to me. She let me tell her everything and I was bawling my eyes out, missing my kids. I was in total shock. And she comforted me.

That day marked the start of a very interesting friendship. Not good mind you, but interesting for sure. Hannah took me in. I ended up calling the cops to see my kids. And one of the worst things anyone has ever told me was said.

I can only assist and ask if you can see your kids. I cannot force them to let you. In the State of Oklahoma, if there is no custody agreement with the parents and you are married, the person who physically has the kids, can keep the kids until a court order is made.

And there it is. I couldn’t get them back. He let me in though, to see my babies. They were taking a bath. They were so excited to see me. I held them, wet and all, and cried. I told them how much I loved them and how Mommy was so excited to see them. It had been two days without seeing them. That is the longest I had ever been without my children.

My children were the other half of me. Without them, I felt so confused and disoriented. When I had to leave, I begged Kyle not to do this. He said he’d let me know when I could see them again. I’d never seen him so cold-hearted. This was a new low.

My heart was a wreck. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know any legal stuff. I didn’t have money. I didn’t know how to adult. The military and my husband always took care of me. My parents did not prepare me for the evil I was enduring.

Everything I had ever learned was useless to me now. The kind of person I was, was naive. I was brought to love everyone, believe the best in everyone. And that, that my friend, was my downfall.

I cried day and night. Every time I looked at Hannah’s kids, I started crying. I’d sit there in their empty nursery and just cry. I could barely eat. I felt so sick, every second of the day. I’d blow up my husband’s phone and messages. I wanted my kids back. I was in a living nightmare.

Nobody knew what to do to help me. I was meeting new people, but I couldn’t care less. To make matters worse, my daughter’s first birthday was coming up. Yes, my husband and his horrible family took my kids from me three days before my baby girl’s birthday.

I didn’t get to plan anything for her. I didn’t get to do her hair. I didn’t get to pick her birthday outfit. She didn’t get a party. I didn’t get to make her first birthday cake. I used some of the money I had to buy her a few birthday presents. My husband was allowing me to see her on her birthday. I got to see her for two hours.

Let that sink in.

My only daughter was turning one. And I got to see this beautiful baby girl I gave birth to for two hours. TWO FUCKING HOURS.

I made the most of every minute I had with my children, even if it wasn’t long. They had all the power, and I was defeated. I didn’t have money for a lawyer. But I could get a job. And that’s exactly what I did.

Maybe a day or two after my daughter’s birthday, I was in the shower when someone knocked on the door. I had been served with divorce papers and a summons to court in February.

He had filed. Everything we had agreed on. The whole reason I came to this stupid fucking state to begin with. Because I felt that our children should have both parents. Stupidest fucking decision. Because I had a heart.

And he was heartless. I could not believe I had married this man. Worse than that, I had children with him. I knew he was an asshole sometimes, but not this. I never would have thought.

And that’s the thing. I don’t think. I keep expecting good out of people, when all they are filled with is shit. Just lies, manipulation, and an intense need to see me suffer. You’d think a girl would learn.

Since I was losing my shit without my children, I made some sexually questionable decision. Cue: My first threesome.

I’ve come to realize that I’m pretty petty, in a demented sort of way. Where it doesn’t necessarily hurt people directly, but only I see think it’s funny and feel vindicated inside. For instance, I decided it’d be great to have a threesome with Hannah and her husband. They wanted it, and I was like why not? Why not fuck the girl that ruined my marriage and her husband who fucked my exhusband over as well. Suuuuper twisted, but I didn’t give a shit. The three of us slept in the same bed anyway.

It was interesting. Not my best threesome. Yup, and not my only one either. But I digress. Hannah and I went out to the bars for the first time and we stumbled into a place where we met some pretty interesting people. These guys were part of a local metal band and they invited us to a show in the city.

Hannah didn’t end up going, but I managed to find a ride with the band and went up to the show. I remember watching them play and it was awesome. A little breather from the hell that I had been leaving. I had my eye on this cute boy that was doing sound. He kept looking at me and mouthing words and flirting with his eyes. You know what I’m talking about. He and his friend were sitting there doing sound and it was nice to see someone making eyes at me. He got a phone call, and he had to leave. He walked by me and said, “Have a good night,” and then left.

I had wished I’d given him my number. I don’t generally do that sort of thing. Like, ever. I got married young. All of this shit was new to me. So I plucked up the courage and walked over to his friend. I gave him the slip of paper and told him to give it to his friend. He gave me a smile and put his hand over mine, looked me in the eye, and said he would.

Funny enough, that particular guy had appeared on my Facebook suggested friends and I instantly recognized him from the concert. I wanted to befriend people in the local music scene, and I also wanted to find out if he gave the guy my number. So I messaged him, he accepted my request and we chatted for a bit.

I asked him if he ever gave his friend my number, and he said he did, but his friend had a girlfriend. Why was he flirting then? Meh, whatever. So I started talking to him instead.

We talked about the music scene. He said he was thinking about going into music production at the local community college. It was really nice talking to a guy about music. It was different. We had similar ambitious and were connecting.


10. The Descent.

The worst day of my life. I’m telling you, this was the worst day I had ever had. My husband decided to go see a movie with his sister, his dad was at work, and me and his mom were at the house.

I had previously talked to my mother, who was struggling to keep her blood pressure after the heart attack. She had messaged my husband’s mother to ask if there was a way to make sure she could get ahold of me. His mom is very passive aggressive, I’ve learned. She sweetly told her that if I would get a job, I could afford a phone and that they could not afford to get me a phone. Which, my mom and I both knew that. That kind of shit pisses my mother off and she was saying her blood pressure was rising.

So that day, while she and I were both home, I talked to her. My babies were napping in separate rooms. I asked her (very nicely, mind you) if she could not talk to my mother on Facebook. She couldn’t handle her blood pressure rising.

His mother suddenly went off screaming, “Your mom’s a BITCH!”

Now. I am not the kind of person to yell. I do not go off on people. But something inside me fucking snapped. My mom just had a heart attack. How fucking dare this bitch insult her! And I let her have it. I started screaming, “Are you fucking kidding me? My mom just had a heart attack!”

In which she responded, “So! Lots of people have heart attacks!”

“She almost DIED!”

“People die every day!”

And then it pretty much escalated from there. I believe I may have called her every insulting thing in the book. I yelled how her kids couldn’t fucking stand her because she was a psychotic bitch.

Then she threatened to show me psychotic and started insulting my parenting, saying my son was slow.

I just thought about how I’ve never wanted to hit someone so bad as I did this bitch. I wanted to beat the living shit out of her and I am not a fighter. Not by a long shot.

She suggested I go to another room to get some air. I thought for a moment, my kids are sleeping in both of the bedrooms and the other room was hers. So, I took her advice, and stepped out front to take a breather.

I was trying to calm down when I heard the worst sound of my life. The sound of the deadbolt locking.

This bitch just locked me away from my children and out of this house.

I start banging on the door screaming for her to let me in. I thought about breaking the window where my kids were sleeping. I should have. That would have been better than what I did. Not a second goes by that I didn’t wish I broke open that window, took my children and ran away.

But no. I did the stupidest thing I have ever done in my life. When I realized the psycho bitch was not going to let me back in, I went to the neighbor’s house. They didn’t speak much English but let me use their phone. I called my husband and told him what his mother did. He sounded annoyed and said he was on his way.

I saw in the driveway waiting for him to come home. His dad came home. He looked at me and reassuringly said, “I know,” and he went to take care of his wife. My husband returned home and said to me that he would talk to her and convince her to let me back in. The two of them were so calm, as if this kind of behavior for her was normal. Her husband was extremely cool, laid-back, and hilarious. She, on the other hand, was a controlling, high-strung, bipolar psycho.

My husband was in that house for 45 mins before he came out. He looked exasperated. “Look, she’s not gonna let you back in. I’m going to drive you to a hotel for a night. Hopefully she will calm down tomorrow. I’ll take care of the kids. You need a night to yourself to relax. You are always doing everything with the kids. You need a break.”

That was really thoughtful of him. He went inside and packed up some things I would need for the night. We drove a little ways outside the city and he checked me in to the motel. He gave me $80. I had a credit card which had never been used and about $500 in my account, which was to be used to pay for my college classes.

I used some of the money to walk to Walmart and get myself a cheap little flip phone. That was an adventure. I was in a town I had never been. Everything was completely foreign to me. I came back to the room and messaged my husband. I asked about the kids and he told me they were doing good. I told him I wanted them out of there. I said that we should use our money and get us a small place until I could move out on my own.

There was no response. He didn’t respond. I tried calling him. It just rang and rang and then went to voicemail. I start blowing up his Facebook.

Why aren’t you answering your phone?

I want to see the kids.

I want them out of there.

Are you purposely keeping me from them?

I guess I’m paying for another night.

Okay, he finally responded.

The next day.

Why won’t you answer your phone? Will you call me please?

So you’re cool with sending me away, but not helping me?

Why won’t you let me fucking talk to my kids?

You can’t keep them away from me!

No response. No answer. Just voicemail.

Oh my fucking god. He just. He took my kids from me. I’m alone in a state where I have no family, no friends, and no knowledge about anything in this state. I was completely alone. Never have I felt more alone in my life than I did in that moment. A moment that to this day, still haunts and torments me. I was the world’s biggest fool. An absolute fucking idiot. Why didn’t I call the cops when his mom locked me out? Why did I call him?


All questions I ask myself every day afterward. I trusted him. I FUCKING TRUSTED HIM. We were on good terms. And when his mother got involved, something changed. This was not the man I married.

Or maybe it was. I mean, let’s be honest, he was a piece of shit while we dated. And then while we were married. But I never thought him capable of something like this. Then it occurred to me. Over the summer, we had gotten a bunch of backpay from the military, about $7000. Suddenly the $7000 disappeared out of the account. I confronted my husband about it and he said he put it in CDs so it could acquire interest. I accused him of trying to screw me over. He didn’t like that.

He also didn’t like that I tried to install a keylogger. Most men don’t dig the idea. But if they were trustworthy, I WOULDN’T NEED THE FUCKING KEYLOGGER. But I digress. My dumbass did not pay for said keylogger. I installed the free version, not knowing it was a piece of shit. Or the fact that it left a window open in the background.

So, when he found it, he was not particularly thrilled. So much so, that he got in my face. He got really close to me with menacing eyes. He was shirtless, and I put my hands lightly on his chest and gently pushed him away, to indicate that he needed to get out of my face. He was making me uncomfortable.

He grabbed my wrists and slammed them against the wall. His grip was tight and he was hurting me. He yelled at me and I got scared. I was in pain and he didn’t care. I shoved him away and ran to the living room to call security forces.

He grabbed the phone from my hands and I was so scared he was gonna continue to hurt me and be a psycho, I grabbed the phone and threw it at him as hard as I could. Now that I think about it, that’s the only man I have ever thrown anything at. He scared the shit out of me.

Not quite sure how we had resolved this, but we did.

But now, now it made sense. There were no CDs. My suspicions were right. 9/10 times they are. I should know this by now.

What was I to do?

I did the only thing I could think of. I took to social media and blasted the whole situation. Everybody was giving me advice. I talked to my parents, my aunts, Max even. He and I talked a whole lot about what was going on. He was genuinely concerned. It made it a teensy bit easier. Not much though. I was still without my world. My reason for living.

Then a thought popped into my head. The only person I knew in this entire state.



You’ve got to fucking be kidding me. This is such total bullshit.

But it was the only hope I had, or I would be homeless.

I messaged Hannah, the woman who helped destroy my marriage. I told her what he had done to me and how I didn’t know what to do.

She asked where I was and I told her. She said she’d be there in 15 mins.



9. What is best

I spoke to a lawyer on base about my divorce situation. I asked him generally what happens to the kids in a military divorce. He said that they usually go with the non-military parent for deployment purposes and what not. We weren’t wanting to go to battle though. My husband and I were on mutual agreement that it just wasn’t working out.

We even tried to explore other avenues. I guess it was me more so than him. He knew that I was looking in other places for people, and he was too, more so on the internet. There was a girl that I was really interested in. The only woman I have ever met that I could have dated. I just don’t see girls in a relationship. I can have sex, but I’m just not emotionally compatible with a woman. But this girl, there was something special about her.

My husband encouraged me to go after her, and I tried, but it was a big complicated situation that caused way too much drama. My husband and I were still having a good relationship, but more like a friendship and we happened to have kids together. We were still having sex, but it was more out of comfort than a need for each other.

Looking back, I can say that I definitely shouldn’t have handled it the way I did. I had a feeling that he had slept with someone, but he told me he didn’t. I was completely honest with him about what I was doing. So I guess you can argue that I cheated on my husband, but he knew. We had decided it was okay, even though we hadn’t physically filed for divorce.

Turns out, because of a government shutdown, my husband could not crosstrain and had to get out of the military at the end of his enlistment that year. So he would be returning to his home of record. I had said to him that instead of me taking the kids, I would move to his state, which I’d never been in, so long as he would help me get on my feet. This way, I didn’t feel like a monster who took her kids’ father away. This is what was best for my children. It wasn’t their fault we didn’t want to be married.

He suggested once that he take our son and I take our daughter. I told him absolutely not. I would not split my children. For one, they have a huge bond to each other. Secondly, how the fuck would my son feel knowing his mom only took his sister? And vice versa? Hell the fuck no. I would not do that to them.

So come November 2013, we packed up our family and moved from Japan to Oklahoma. We had to stay with his family, whom I had never met. He always hated his mom his whole life. He said she was a bipolar psycho. She was abusive and that was the reason he moved out so young.

When I met her, she seemed nice enough. She loved the kids, and did shots with me like the first night I was there. We even took my daughter and went shopping with her, while my husband took our son and his dad. She asked me about us getting a divorce and asked if there was any chance of it working out. I told her about Hannah. She remembered Hannah. She absolutely hated her. Something we had in common. One of the few.

Things were okay. We celebrated Thanksgiving with my husband’s family. I was struggling a bit, being as I was trying to parent my children in someone else’s house. My daughter was not sleeping well in her pack and play, so she was screaming a lot during the night. I could tell his parents were irritated, but there wasn’t much I could do. They didn’t offer to help or anything, not that I necessarily needed it. She was just a tough baby.

My mother had a heart attack and I had no way to contact her. My husband was off buying himself a phone, but didn’t think of me at all. He suddenly decided that he didn’t have to pay for me anymore. His parents got him a good deal on a vehicle and helped him get a job. I, on the other hand, had applied to a nearby place, but didn’t get the job.

I was growing more and more stressed with the living situation. I was used to it just being me, my husband, and my children. I could tell his mother was critiquing my parenting and it was pissing me the fuck off. She started limiting how much juice my son had and when he could have a snack. That made me angry, but she was paying for it, so what could I do.

I had to use the house phone to call my mother and check up on her. She had her second heart attack and I was worried for her. So much, that I was crying a lot. I didn’t want to be in Oklahoma. I wanted to go home. I was uncomfortable in someone else’s house and it was becoming awkward. I started noticing all of things my husband said he hated about his mom. She was the biggest control freak I had ever met. I watched my husband give in to her every request, just so she would shut up.

8. Beginning of the end

My daughter was born shortly before Christmas of the year of 2012. Yup, I had two babies born in the same year. It had been an extremely rough pregnancy, nothing like with my son. With my son, I got nauseous a lot but only threw up once. With my daughter, I swear I threw up every other day. I got big fast, and could hardly move around my house. Every step I took, my pelvis would snap. I couldn’t turn over in bed without being in a fuck ton of pain. I was glad when she was ready to come out.

And she was beautiful. Once again, it was the best day of my life. My baby girl was so gorgeous and I loved her with everything I had. All of the resentment, all of the pain I’d been through in that nine months, it all faded away when I looked into her eyes. I had worried about how much I loved my son; I didn’t understand how I could possibly ever love another child as much as I loved him. But after she was born, it was easy.

These two children were my entire world. I cannot begin to describe how much I adored them. They were the most important people in the world to me. You know how people say that their spouse is there other half? Not me. My babies were the other half of me.

On the few times I went to the grocery store and left the kids with my husband, I’d go with my best friend and constantly have mini heart attacks thinking I lost my kids. It felt weird going anywhere without them. This didn’t happen very often, as my husband would at least make me take our daughter. I’d come home and our son would be shut up in his room watching Sesame Street while my husband would be playing games. That shit would piss me off.

We taught our son to be self sufficient. He’d play in his room with Sesame Street on for a little while and then we’d get him out. My husband would leave him in there for longer and forget. It made me upset.

My daughter, on the other hand, demanded all of my attention almost every second of the day. She was a tough one. I didn’t co-sleep with my son, but my daughter needed to be in my personal space when she slept. Our noses had to be touching or she wouldn’t sleep. It was cute, but at times, frustrating. She and I had a very special bond and she preferred Mommy over Daddy any day of the week. Of course, this may have contributed to the fact that I didn’t think my husband didn’t even like our daughter. He’d rarely hold her, which would actually cause a little damage later.

She had colic, and let me tell you, it is hell if you don’t already know. We called it her “hell hours”, where she would scream from 4pm to 8pm every night. I’d do everything I could to console her. I’d turn on our stereo system and stand right in front of it, rocking her and singing to her whatever was playing. Then she would go to sleep.

My best friend would take our daughter on occasion after she was born. Because she was demanding so much attention, I felt I was losing out on time with my son. This allowed me to focus on my budding toddler.

My son turned one about two weeks after my daughter was born. I planned his birthday party for months. It was themed “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”. When he was around four months old, we bought said caterpillar at the mall in Japan. It was the first toy we ever saw him get attached to. He loved his “capitillar” which is what we called it. To this day, I have such a hard time pronouncing “caterpillar” because of how I’ve said it for years.

I researched Pinterest, ebay, had a poster designed, and paid $50 for a caterpillar cake. There was only one other baby there and the rest were our friends. They all loved him though. We even got our daughter a special tutu made to match all the colors. I put every ounce of energy and creativity in his first birthday and I couldn’t wait to do so with my daughter.

My son was growing fast, started walking too. It was amazing to see this little one that was the size of my daughter (exact by the way. both of them weighed the exact same weight when they were born).

A few months passed by. Life was okay. With my children, amazing. With my husband, well, I sort of lost all interest in him. I was very nonchalant about my marriage. He hadn’t done anything, but my heart didn’t feel the same and I knew it. But I had a good life.

There was so much betrayal in the entirety of our relationship, that I think my heart pretty much gave up fighting for it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, other than the fact it pissed me off that he didn’t help much with the kids. He’d get whatever they needed, anything I wanted, but day to day needs, he just didn’t. I always fed them, bathed them, changed them, and dealt with my daughter’s hell hours. I’d stay up all night when they were sick, get up for late night changes and feedings. He didn’t do any of that.

But we were taken care of. I also ran my own home business as a Pure Romance consultant and did online college. So I figured, maybe the longer I stayed, love would come back.

Did I believe that? No. I was unhappy with my marriage in general. There were many times where things would be great, but deep down, I just didn’t feel the kind of love I knew I should have.

There were a few times we’d fight and I’d bring up divorce and it would be quickly shot down. I quickly realized that he would never accept it if it was my idea. It had to be his idea.

So, I messaged Hannah. You remember Hannah? The bitch that ruined everything. Well, my husband did too. I made up some sad story about not feeling like he wanted to be married and how I care about him, but I didn’t think he was happy.

And it worked. Perfectly, I might add. I knew Hannah wouldn’t be able to resist talking to my husband about it. She wanted to save him if she knew he was unhappy. Girls like that are so easy.

And sure enough, in June, my husband approached me with the idea of divorce. We hadn’t been fighting, we’d just been living. It was a calm conversation. We’d been the happiest for a few months, but inside, neither of us felt it anymore. So, we discussed at our next base, we’d separate then. We were due to leave Japan soon, and were waiting for re-assignment.


7. All Because Two People Fell In Love.

When I took that first pregnancy test, I thought I saw that little plus sign. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I showed it to my husband and screamed at him. I had my second anxiety attack ever. I was collapsed on the ground bawling and screaming at him. I didn’t want another child. Especially with him, which is exactly was I said, rather loudly to him.

I didn’t want to believe it. I really didn’t. And I refused to for days, until my fourth pregnancy test. Up until that point, I had been taking those little plus sign was and I finally broke down and bought the digital. And it read: Pregnant.

I had told Max that I was going to stay with my husband. I could maybe do one child, but two on my own? No. Plus, it killed me every time I walked by my son’s room, and the sentence that was on his door since we designed the nursery:

All because two people fell in love.

Fuck that. But, my son loved his daddy. I didn’t want to be that monster to separate them. Would I ever trust my husband again? Fuck no. But, I had a good life. An easy one. I adored my son. Which is sad, because I resented the baby I was currently carrying. Not that it was the baby’s fault, but I felt trapped. And it was my own fault. My dumbass missed my six week appointment. You know, the one where they tell you it’s EASY AS FUCK to get pregnant after you had a baby and didn’t get on birth control. We had been using the pull-out method, stupid I know. But hey, it worked until we had made the conscious decision to have a child. This time, not so much.

So I began putting the pieces back together. It took a few months for me to start to move on and try to repair my marriage. I had to accept this pregnancy and this life. I had to stay committed. I didn’t feel I had a choice.

It was a rough first trimester and second. Apparently, your body needs to have a break from babies for two years. I waited two months. The pain was unbearable and I was getting much bigger, quicker.

What really changed the game was when I went in for my second ultrasound. We were having a little girl. I had already picked the name out, a name that I had loved since I was 12. My husband didn’t get a choice in the matter.

I’d like to say everything went back to normal, but it didn’t. Try as I did, I tried to stay in love with my husband. But every time I looked at him, I saw a liar, a cheater, and a life-ruiner. He may not have physically slept with her, but I just couldn’t get over the fact that he put us all on the line, knowing full well that he would ruin our family. Just for a Facebook thing. The fact that he sacrificed something he wasn’t even getting any physical enjoyment out of, but emotional, killed me. And I had read all of it. It sickened me.

I tried to be happy. And at times I was. I hit a point where I finally stopped checking his shit. I just didn’t care anymore. Looking back, I thought at the time I was finally starting to trust him again. Now I know, I was falling out of love with him. I was completely losing interest in the man I had married. I wasn’t looking elsewhere, but I was simply living. That’s all.

6. Max

I’m going to keep this story as brief as possible. There’s a 700 page book I wrote dedicated to Max. Max was my first love. I fell in love with him in high school. I was the Christian girl and he was the emo kid with eyeliner and the Blink 182 shirt. Every interest I ever had in music, guys, and pandas came from Max. He was the only guy I had ever cared about more than myself. We were friends first and we’d only ever kissed once. And when it looked like we were going to be in a relationship, he’d decided to go back to his ex. Looking back, it was not that big of a deal. But at the time, it was catastrophic. I had given my whole heart to this guy emotionally, and when he broke it, I was shattered. That was the first bout of depression I had ever come across. That was the first instance that launched my addiction to self-harm. I had cut letters into my ankle. I was distraught. To help me learn and mend, I wrote a book about my life in high school right up until I joined the Air Force.

Eventually, Max and I came to a resolution and it was fine. We talked every once in a while, but nothing substantial. My husband knew how much I had loved Max. But in the book I wrote, I came to the conclusion that I had to stop dreaming about him. He was never going to tell me he loved me, he didn’t want me. Max was a dream, and a far-fetched one at that.

Or so I thought. When I was neglected by my husband, Max and I started talking. We hadn’t talked in quite a while, but he still did something to my heart, four years after the fact. The thing about Max, was that he was the most unique person I had ever met. I have never met a soul like him. He talked in riddles and metaphors. There was something dark and mysterious about him and it was so easy for him to reel me in.

Max and I started skyping while my husband would be at work. Our conversations were light hearted and enjoyable, but still, I shouldn’t have been talking to him without my husband knowing. I just needed some attention. Doesn’t make it right though, I know. He’d call my son “Little Max” even though he knew that wasn’t his name. Then he did it. All of the convincing I had told myself, and this motherfucker ruined it.

“A part of me wants to tell you, but I feel bad because of your life now.”

“Tell me what?”

“Idk. Everything. If I had a chance to be in your life now, I would be there in a heartbeat.”

FUCK. And it all came back. And then of course, my dumbass had to ask.

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever stopped. I’ve buried it at times.”

Everything. Everything I told myself for years. He never loved me. He didn’t want me. It was all a lie. He’s always loved me. The way I loved him. And this motherfucker decided to tell me after I was married and had a child. WHY THE FUCK–goddamit men. So fucking stupid. I can’t.

My heart had opened right up to him. I was so confused. I had literally built a wall around my feelings for him and with one sentence, it crumbled. What was I to do now?

Max and I talked for a few more days, before I finally told my husband. I had to be honest. I couldn’t hide it. I owed him the truth. Of course, when I did, he was angry as fuck. So angry, he punched the wall next to my head. Scared the shit out of me. He made me feel like such a piece of shit. I felt horrible. How could I, as a wife and a mother, consider taking my child away from his dad to chase after a high school love? I couldn’t. It was selfish. Max was my missed connection, one that I would miss for life.

My husband was so pissed at me for days, but I had decided to tell both him and Max that I made a commitment to my marriage. This was my life now. This was the life I chose. My son came first. Max understood, but mending things with my husband, that was going to be difficult. I had talked to my mother about the situation and she told me to take a breather. She asked me a series of questions, and I told her I just wasn’t feeling valued by my husband. I told her we weren’t having sex. She stopped and asked me if I thought he was cheating. I was like, no way. He wouldn’t sacrifice his family for it.


Mom’s little question floated around in my brain. It had been a while since I checked his shit. The last conversation we had about anything remotely like that was four months prior, when I went into labor.

So out of sheer curiosity, I opened up his Yahoo! account. Apparently the idiot forgot I knew the password. And what did I find? Sure enough, the bitch that he had been exchanging pics with before I got married, Hannah, was in there.

And there was a lot of messages from the the previous month. They talked about me, about Adam, and about wanting to have sex with each other. And I’m not talking simply, like explicitly. Apparently, when he was doing his “shift” with our son, and I was sleeping, he was messaging and calling her. He would tell her how much he loved her.

I was shattered. And then I was livid. Here I was, telling him I had feelings for someone and BEING FUCKING HONEST, he was lying and doing this shit. I was done.

So I did what I do every time I find out about this kind of shit. I made myself look gorgeous, did my makeup and waited for my husband to wake up. And he did, while I was doing my makeup.

“Baby, will you get me something to drink?”

I smiled sweetly. “Of course.” I walked into the kitchen, got him some orange juice, and gave it to him. He looked at me. “You look pretty. I love you.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“What do you mean okay?”

I took the screenshots I had printed out. I threw them at him. “Wanna tell me what the fuck this is?”

Why is it that all men when they know they’ve been busted, evidence and all, act like you’re out of your mind?

He looked at it and acted confused. “I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s all your fucking messages with Hannah.”

He tried to make excuses, but he knew his ass was grass. I laid into him. I yelled at him for treating me like shit, making me seem like I was a horrible spouse, and betraying me again. I told him I wanted a divorce. I told him that I had said if he ever did this shit while we were married, it would be the end. And here we are. I told him I was taking Adam and I wanted him to suffer.

I also messaged Hannah on Facebook and told her she was a homewrecking whore and I hope she was happy that he was going to lose his family. Also, I told her that he said she meant nothing to him and was like porn. Which, is what he told me. He told me he didn’t love her and it was a mistake.

For some reason, this offended her. So much, in fact, that she gave me her Facebook password with the promise from me that I would not post anything on her profile publicly. I didn’t need to do that. I had more class than that.

But when I read through her messages between her and my husband, I was completely and utterly appalled. He had told me it only happened for that week of messages I found in the Yahoo! Turns out, they had been messaging since that night I was suspicious. The night that I went into fucking labor for our child. This motherfucker lied straight to my face. Four fucking months worth of the most sickening shit I had ever read in my life. All of the things he did nice for me during that time was wiped completely out. I hated him. I hated him. I fucking hated him. They talked about how when he’d visit back home, he’d make up a story about “hanging out with the guys” and leave me with Adam, and then going to go fuck her. These messages guys, they were so detailed. I swear to God, I had a vivid picture of what this girls pussy looked, tasted, and smelled like by the end of these messages.


I was so angry and I ripped him a new one. I screamed that he was a liar. Thankfully, my son slept pretty well, so he didn’t hear me yelling. My husband didn’t know what to do with himself, except beg for my forgiveness. And I wouldn’t give it. I was done. Fuck him. I was taking my son and going for Max. Fuck this. FUCK THIS MOTHERFUCKER. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

I bawled and bawled. I hated him. So much.Three days later, I told my Mom everything. I was making wild decisions and she had to tell me to calm my shit. Then she asked another detrimental question, damn her.

“When was your last period?” She thought maybe I had been overreacting and losing my shit because of PMS, which has been known to happen. I sat down and thought about it. I had one period after I gave birth, but I couldn’t remember my second. Then it dawned on me. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. NO.