karma – My Time to Bloom

It’s funny how some things turn out. Time–and karma–have their own slow but sure ways of handling things.

Years ago, Psycho loudly and repeatedly accused my husband of not being able to hold down a job. Funny…he has held a job just fine for the 20 years I have known him, and he has owned his own company for more than a decade, with customers who adore him. Psycho, however, has spent more of that time unemployed than working, has been fired, bounces from one menial position to another, and has yet to demonstrate any discernible adult ambition or stability.

Years ago, Psycho also called my husband irresponsible and claimed that he didn’t pay his bills. Interesting…while that “irresponsible” husband of mine owns a house and a vehicle, receives credit offers for his business, and hates to be late for anything, bills included, Psycho can hardly say the same. What she can say is that she has been sued — more than once — and has had her driver’s license suspended — again, more than once –for not paying her bills. Oh, and do I need to mention the fraudulent credit cards she has opened in other people’s names?

Now she is having her wages garnished for unpaid credit card debt. Guess all those Hooters visits (but she just likes the wings, eh?), tacky nails, and Dollar General shopping sprees add up. Her employer was served on her behalf, and if Psycho actually had any pride left, she would be mortified.

The clown in this cartoon seemed appropriate.

Over time, all of the festering negativity and ugliness inside of Psycho has hemorrhaged to the outside as well. She can’t expect to bitch, manipulate, whine, and lie her entire life and not end up wearing it in sags, droops, and lines from stringy head to crusty toe, with nothing to fill her time besides her incessant attention-whoring, griping, and court appearances.

Psycho has expended great efforts over many years to chase me away, desperate to destroy my husband’s happiness in retaliation for moving on so easily without her. In the end, she only destroyed herself. I have to wonder: as she looks at herself now, at the wreckage of her life, her trail of failures, no one and nothing around her except her delusions, lies, hypocrisy, and disappointment…is she proud of herself? If so, she is the only one who is.

I would say “Rot in hell, bitch”, but it appears she already is. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving hag.

Such a simple concept in the quote above, but one that is completely and obstinately missed by so many. I know people who lie every chance they get, cheat, use people, but when they deservedly get dumped, suddenly they are maltreated princesses who just aren’t appreciated — manhandled saints who are woefully unlucky in love.

When you get a small taste of what you repeatedly and happily serve up to others, you are not a victim; you are a jackass having a tantrum because someone treated you the way you treat others. When you are single because you are an insufferable asshole, you are not a poor, undervalued woman, used by heartless men; you are a classless bitch with nothing of value to offer. When someone tires of your games, your lies, and your abuse, they didn’t mercilessly leave you; they escaped.

When you are incapable of being honest, giving, loving, and loyal, what right do you possibly have to expect that from others? The perpetual victim act is as old and dusty as the jokers playing it.