September 22, 2003
a post i've been meaning to write
I've been thinking about this one for a while. People commenting about my archives stirred me to write it.
In July of 2001, I had a pretty heavy double-whammy laid on me. The woman I loved told me that she didn't love ME anymore on Saturday and the following Monday I discovered that I had prostate cancer. The BC cleaned out the bank accounts, cancelled all the credit cards and put me on the street with $60 to my name. Then, she moved an unemployed dope-smoker into MY 3,200-square-foot home on 5 and 1/2 acres of land that I had worked my ass off on. I saw a gross unfairness in those circumstances.
I kinda flipped out and did some stupid things, for which I paid dearly. In between jail, the looney bin and that railroad trip to a "rehab clinic," my life was pretty well run by the Gestapo for the next 45 days. In the meantime, the BC was having a grand old time with her new lover and dragging my son along for the ride. Some of the mail I received at the time from my friends who saw her DELIBERATELY rubbing my nose in her adultery shattered my heart.
Don't ever believe that you "know" somebody. You don't. You know what they mean for you to see, not what they really are. And believe me on this: a knife in the back from someone you trust really hurts. Especially when it costs you a child.
When I was under lockup, I started keeping a journal. Writing was the only way that I could keep my head screwed on straight. I didn't know a damned thing about blogs at the time, so I filled two composition books with stuff a lot like what I write today. That was, without a doubt, the most horrible time of my life.
I had one episode in the "rehab clinic" that I am damned certain the BC choreographed. I was not allowed to use a phone there, but I received an "emergency" call from my home phone number. I was allowed to call, only to hear the phone ringing off the walls of an empty house. She did that just to make certain that I knew that she was off somewhere fucking around. Yes, she did that a lot to me, and it hurt like hell every time.
When I was a free man again, I asked her about that "emergency" phone call. She said that she didn't make it, but maybe a couple of my friends she and the dope-smoker saw when they went to that concert in Jacksonville called. It was no big deal. "Where was Quinton?", I asked. "Quinton spent the weekend with his Granny," she replied, with a half-smile. ("While I fucked my slutty brains out with someone you once considered to be a friend, asshole," was dancing all over that half-smile.)
Take another little piece of my heart, now baby.
I went back to work for 28 days, then went into the hospital for the prostate surgery. I thought I was pretty tough and could rebound quickly. I was wrong. She came to see me after I was moved from the recovery room and she brought me two presents. One was a pathetic little potted flower she purchased in the gift shop downstairs, and the other was the final divorce papers for me to sign.
Yes, she did that, the bloodless cunt. I was still hooked up to IVs, whacked on morphene and I had a catheter running up Roscoe and she laid the paperwork on me RIGHT THEN. She wanted her divorce and she wanted it RIGHT NOW. I signed the papers.
I spent another 28 days feeling as if I had been kicked in the gut by a very large and very angry mule. I lost a lot of weight that I never have gained back. I didn't sleep very much. I didn't eat much at all. I ran out of pain medication and had my mama drive me to the emergency room to get some more. I couldn't sleep at ALL without it.
I actually bought the Crackerbox over the phone while I was laid up during that time. I was still wearing a catheter when I saw the house and said that I would buy it, and I could barely get my ass out of bed when I closed on the house, but Willie and Ed and a couple of other friends moved what remaining shit I still owned into the place for me. The 6.7 acres of land we owned sold to provide me the down payment on the house, then the mini-farm sold a week later. I made a lot of money on that deal, but I would rather have the mini-farm back. I put a lot of my life into that place.
I went back to work not certain that I really wanted to. Emotionally, I remained a wreck and that's not a good thing for a person in my position. About once a day, I would climb to the top of the baghouses and cry where no one could see me. I knew that I couldn't keep doing crazy shit like that and I thought seriously about resigning before I really embarrassed myself by breaking down in a meeting with upper management or something equally humiliating.
But I was fucking off on the internet during lunch one day when I discovered glenn reynolds. I thought that he ran the most intriguing site I had ever encountered. Talk about One-Stop shopping! I could go there and find all kinds of interesting things to read. I started following his blogroll and found Ken Layne one day. Ken said "Everybody ought to have a blog. You want to know how easy it is? Go HERE!" and he gave a link to Blogger.com.
I went home one evening and started this blog. That was December 28, 2001. That was my son's birthday. That was the day I brought home the cake and the presents only to discover that the BC had hauled ass to the mountains for the weekend with her lover and Quinton. He was seven years old that day and I'll never forget throwing that cake in the trash can and leaving a very obscene, spittle-stained message on her answering machine.
I don't call her a bloodless cunt for nothing.
When I started this blog,I didn't know diddly-squat. I didn't know how to do a link. Steve Hamby came to visit when he realized that he was dying and brought his mercenary 15 year-old son, Scott, who designed his school's web-page. I paid Scott $100 to install comments, teach me how to do a link and put a hit counter on my page. He showed me how to do my first blogroll, too. It was money well spent.
I sometimes like to go read my archives myself. I started out writing essays. I tried to copy Instapundit for a while and became a linker. I went into serious fisking after that. Now, I don't know what it is that I do, but I'm not throwing constant howls of pain out there anymore and I'm not trying to rip people's throats out or "be like" anyone else the way I once was.
I've found a way to blog that suits me. Do you know what my rules are?
HAVE NO RULES! Just make it fun to read and even MORE FUN to write.
Damn dude, and I thought my own personal run-in with a BC some years back was bad. I got off easy.
First beer is on me.
Well its been 22 years since my run in with my own bloodless cunt.Thank god no kids,but a lot of stupid actions on my part and a lot of pain.
I didn't believe it at the time;however the only thing that seems to work is time and liveing well.Re married 16 years ago,live better,have more,less hassel than before,Is she doing better or worse than me? Don't know,truley wouldn't walk across the stree to find out,but i would be lying if I didn't say it would bring a smile to my lips if the BC died a horriable death.So it really never goes away but it does get to the point where you can live again.
Didn't have blogs in 1980 so I filled up a couple of notebooks with my thoughts seemed to work for me.
While I haven't gone through all you have,what I have gone through has been enough for me.By reading your story,i have discovered that you will survive,the tough part is sometimes you don't want to,but you will.
It does seem that you have found the way to focus on work,your son,and being happy.
Can I tell you when the moment that your life revolves around you and what you hold important rather than her,NOPE,but you can go to the bank that it will come,and you will never see it,until is past.That will be a good day and it wil bring a smile to your lips.
Both you and I believe that you will do well.
Great post. Allah knows a god when he sees one.
Seems to me that you've got the blogging thing just damned right.
You were one of the first bloggers I encountered when I got into it in January 2002, and you've never ceased to be among my absolute favorites. You and Goddess and Sugarmama!
You're my first site to visit when I get the chance to read the REAL bloggers. Glenn also got me fired up, but you're the guy I can't miss, and I can afford to miss Glenn.
You're one of a couple of sites that inspired me to blog - Unfortunately, I have not learned enough, yet.
Thanks for all that you do.
your one of the first blogs i ever read.. and i still read you everyday. your a great blogger.
scott hamby actually got me into your site..
...I've found a way to blog that suits me......
That's ALL you need to say!
Can't remember how I found your blog a few months back, but I try to read it every night. You're a breath of fresh air. Not only that, I found Allah's blog through yours!
Weren't counting on the idea you'd be saving anyone else's life and mind, were ya?
Well, you did.....
Well...my life, anyway.
My brain's been folded, stapled, mutilated and bent for as long as I can remember.
Long live Acidman! And thank you for keeping it real.
I really enjoy your site..
Sorry about this but I am dying to ask BJK..What exactly does your email addy stand for? I am thinking New Bern,NC,no?
I too read you daily, several times a day. You were one of the first blogs I began to read as well. Keep up the good work :)
I found you through InstaPundit when he posted your qualifications for a woman in your life. I've read daily ever since. While the things that have happened to you are beyond comprehension, I'm glad you're still with us and writing every day.
What a bitch.
I, as a female, do not see why you should be sorry to call her a BC.
OMG, to hurt someone like that. Someone you love and share a child with?
A BC? Could think of a few other names that will not be said here.
But she is a cunt. No prob sayin' that. (And I am PC) Hon, you suffered something that I can't even think of.
And I've been there....done that. Only reverse.
I'm female, and you're male.
And it sucks no matter what your gender,
OMG, that is the most awful BC story I've ever heard or read. She defintiely deserves the title or something worse. I'm glad that you pulled through it all and got your blog started.
I found your blog through Trish's Serenity Quest blog (another fav). That was about 3 months ago and only a few days ago, did I start reading your archives starting at the beginning. I look forward to reading your blog every night. I love your way with words and I firmly believe you should write a novel..I know it would make it to the best-seller's list! Your son is a fortunate boy to have you. I won't waste any space saying what I think of your ex wife. Acidman, you are cooler than cool to me. Keep up the writing and "hello" from southern Illinois!
It is, truly, amazing what men in this society can go through without anyone much giving a damn when they try to talk to someone.
Writing is a terrific outlet, and I always enjoy your site, man.
Acidman, All I can say is that my life hasn't quite been the same since I found you. And the fisking you gave me has saved me what might be YEARS of therapy.
Thanks, Rob, for doing what you do.
Glenn, Schmenn. You were the second blogger I ever discovered. (Joanie was the first and thankfully for all concerned she had a link to your blogspot blog on her site.)
One of the first things I did was go through your archives. What a treasure trove of great writing and emotion. You seem to be at your best when you are writing from the heart.
Your content may not be consistent, but you are consistently YOU, which is more than some bloggers offer up. What more could you ask for?
Haha. We discovered each other through another vicious, crazy woman, the bridezilla blogger. (The one who did not get married after all and now is a jesus-zilla.) And then came Joanie and Dragonfly Jenny and Joni...
Yeah, what they all said.
I've had my heart broken several times, but not on your scale.
My advice: keep Roscoe buried. If you get my drift.
This was a wonderful ride of a read! Comments here made me hit the archives for more. You may know more as a blogger now, but your writing has been excellent from the git-go. Thanks!
Is there anything less dignified, more pathetic or unsexy than a grown man throughing himself a pity party? God, man, call Oprah and see if you can get together for a good cry.
It's one thing to feel as you do, quite another to publish this banal tripe. I'm beginning to see the BC's point of view. You must of been a pain to live with. No wonder she left. Instead of looking at everyone else to blame, maybe it's time to look at yourself. You're a very angry man and you've got no one to blame but yourself.
"Never explain. Your friends don't need it, and your enemies will never understand anyway."
" E " is right. We don't need to know this. You may need to say it, so go find a bum in a bar and pour your heart out. But it won't make you feel any better over time.
Self-pity is the enemy of healing. In fact, self-pity is my worst enemy. As long as I feel sorry for myself, I can't face the consequences of my own choices.?
Proverbs 28:13 shows us the way forward: ?He who conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.?
Which being translated means, ?Those who feel sorry for themselves will never get better, but those who come clean will find the mercy they seek.?
Yeah. I used to think that I wanted to find a girlfriend or get married. I don't now, because I've heard too many stories of heartless, godless bitches doing this to guys that care about them.
Oh, and Dorothy, you stupid cunt, women like you are the reason men like me hate women. No one's perfect, and everyone is hard to live with. You're like all women: you want to be a queen and a goddess, and life revolves around you. You don't care who gets hurt or destroyed as long as the goddess has her morning sacrifice. I could say that the women who get beat daily are probably annoying, but "that's not the same," is it?
I hope you die a horrible death. I hope the BC dies a horrible death as well. I don't even date anymore, I hate women so much. I'd rather masturbate than think that I willingly spent time with some venomous cunt who wants to suck out my soul and leave me to die on the side of the road than actually forget about her own goddess-syndrome and care about somebody else.
Dorothy and PADRE do you think for one minute that Acidman wrote this post for pity or for someone to feel sorry for him. I don't think so. I have been reading this blog for some time now and if you had half a brain you could see that he writes what he thinks and how he feels about things. I have to give the man credit at least he admitted that he messed up and flipped out. He started writing as a form of therapy. You have to admit that what he went through would put an end to any average person. You chose to read his post if you didn't care for what you were reading you should have moved on. Also I would like to know where you can buy the perfect pill. Since you think your so damn great!
Thank you for taking the time to do this blog. I can't remember how I got here originally, but the quality of writing, and unique combination of emotion and intellect brings me back regularly -- you always provide something to think about.
You are one fine, compelling writer. I turn to your site almost daily to remind myself of what a strong literary voice can achieve. You piss me off occasionally, but even at those moments I admire the quality of your thinking. I'd pay money to read a story or novel by you.
I've got a post just like this one as a draft on my blog. I haven't found the nut to post it yet but I'll tell ya...it felt DAMN good to write it. I just closed my eyes and typed.
Everyone should be so honest in their writing as you are.
I think Mamabear hit the right note using your own line as the explaination; "I've found a way to blog that suits me". I've been to a lot of sites and keep seeing your name so I knew there had to be something to it. I've found out why. Keep cranking it out, it does you well. On many different levels. Life's tough, but the tough live.
Why do I get the feeling that Dorothy and the Bible Thumping idiot (don't waste your time on me, dude, I'm a card-carrying member of the perfect religion; both of you could do worse than to read some of what's there) sleep alone? I can read between the lines more bitterness in both of their posts than in every rant Rob has ever posted.
But that's just me.
I'll add my voice to your list of fans. I really enjoy reading your blog.
And your story....well, it's taken the edge off of my "men are scum" declarations. Not that I don't think that they are often scum, but one must remember that women can be, too.
As an outside observer, of course, I would pay to read BC's side of the story and see if I had a drop of sympathy for her or not.
But for you -- fuck her as far as you're concerned.
But you sound like a strong person, a real survivor, and most importantly, an amazing father. (All of which I remember when you write something that really pisses me off...)
acidman, i haven't read into your archives at all. I've been reading on and off since i linked up with Da Goddess, though.
Weird how it is, that you learn in things in rehab, even if you hate every fucking moment of it, that you don't realize until much later that you've learned. Whether you stay clean or not, some of the lessons stick, and living becomes just an iota easier when you notice something is working that never did before, because you're applying one of those hated lessons.
I'm right with ya. I've been there and everywhere else. I have a BC of a stepmom who just dragged my dad through the mud and stomped all over him, and splattered mud and blood all over me in the process.
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