Scorn & Sage

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I start each day knowing that I’ll come face to face with something that will remind me of my cheating husband. I still haven’t filed for divorce and I’m not exactly sure why. I haven’t had any contact with him at all since January and I don’t know where he’s living currently, although I have a suspicion that it’s with another woman. Lord knows that he can’t hack it on his fucking own. I was always the one who paid the bills and made sure that we continued to have a roof over our heads.

He wouldn’t know an electric bill if it bit him in his fat, disgusting ass.

The days continue though, full of landmines. Spending fifteen years with someone, you tend to gather tons of relationship tidbits. A song, a saying, a certain food…I’ll never be able to listen to Led Zep again without wanting to puke my guts out.

The restaurant we frequently had dinner at burned down and I was actually glad that it was gone, his easy conversation and fake smiles smoldering in the ashes of someone else’s worst nightmare.

The owner is rebuilding down the street, so my guilt isn’t as heavy, but I still feel like a total asshole for smiling like a fool when I first heard. I pray that their pork chops stay moist and delicious.

I have some sage to cleanse my house. I’ve never done anything like it before, I’m just your average middle-aged, scorned woman who wants to rid her home of evil, smelly, perverted energy.

Abbey NormalĀ  11/1/2018

There’s a woman screaming in my neighborhood, so come read my blog!

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Starting this blog is incredibly necessary for the continuation of my healing from a lifetime of traumas that continue like fucking hell on toast to hold me back from living my best life.

Wow, that does look like a real sentence…damn, Abbey.

Not bad.

Within this space I will lay down, with sincerity and truth, all of my worst memories.

It might come in spurts or like an avalanche, I cannot promise you a post a day, also not in chronological order. I can however promise to be real.

We are made from our past, slowly molding into the people that we are right at this moment. If you hadn’t met that one person and gone to that party, or had that emotional gutter punch to an already upset stomach that aches day and night.

My mother cannot shit. I mean this sincerely. This issue has plagued her for going on 5 years and she’s slowly starving to death. She tries so hard, my God she tries, I am suffering watching her weaken before my eyes and holy fuck she’s going to die pretty soon and all of us who love her has to watch.

Does anyone else feel this way, or like me, afraid to bring it up least we all face the music?

People are afraid of the truth.

I need a safe place…cause I have a bunch and they are screaming at me.

Abbey Normal 10/31/2018

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