Category: time

Then and Now

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.

The Norm

Having the past week off for the holidays, and spending each day with my husband, made it very difficult to return to work this morning. It says a lot, I believe, that we can spend an entire week together and still want more time together. I joke with him that it’s because he loves picking on me and irritating me on purpose so much, and he has to laugh, because he can’t deny that!

We were walking into a store together one day over the holiday break, and an older man standing near the entrance commented on us holding hands, saying, “Well, that’s not the norm these days.”

Maybe. Maybe not. It is the norm for us, though. And I am glad it is.

Time

Today I bought a 2026 calendar. Let that sink in for a moment. Over half of this year is gone already. Heck, we’re almost halfway through July now! It just doesn’t seem real that I have started buying planners and calendars for 2026 already.

I read somewhere that time seems to go by faster as we get older because we have less novel experiences and more routine lives, and each year represents a smaller fraction of our total life. The “less novel experiences” part got to me. I can’t do much about the day-to-day responsibilities of going to work, cleaning the house, taking out the trash, or folding laundry, but reading that inspired me to throw some color, pizzazz, and newness into our lives whenever I can.

Too many times, my husband and I talk about trying something new or going somewhere we’ve never been, and it typically ends with “someday” and no real plan. I want to start changing that. Why wait? What’s wrong with now?

I’m not talking elaborate trips or bizarre experiences here, since both of us admittedly really like being at home, and there’s something to be said for peace and quiet. I’m just talking little new experiences that can build memories for us, give us new experiences to try together, or allow us to simply slow down and appreciate the moments we already have.

Together

Time is marching by a bit too quickly for my liking. We recently celebrated my older stepdaughter’s 21st birthday, and I still can’t get used to any of the kids having ages in the 20s, even though three of them do by now.

When I created my stepdaughter’s birthday card, I went through my file of photos, everything from baby pictures to silly pictures with her dad, sticking out her tongue, or the two of them conspiring to concoct goofy poses right before I took the picture. Some of the pictures feel like so long ago, yet just yesterday, at the same time.

The photo I chose for her card was one of our favorites, when she was very tiny, maybe 3 or 4 years old, wearing a pink cardigan, running clumsily through the grass with the sun shining on her smiling face. I remember her being proud of herself for being able to reach the knob of the front door and open it by herself. That same face sat across from us recently at her birthday dinner, holding hands with her boyfriend, talking about her college classes, her job.

The day that picture was taken, all of us were so much younger. My husband and I had not been together long at all yet. We were still getting to know each other. We were already under relentless attack but already learning to reach out to each other for support and stability and sanity.

If you would have told me back then that someday, I would be sitting at my stepdaughter’s birthday dinner with both my husband and his ex-wife, I would have been skeptical. I admit, I find it a bit odd to be expected to sit at the same table with someone who has harassed me for decades and still stalks me to this day. It would be well within my right to refuse. But my stepdaughter wanted a birthday dinner, and none of this has ever been her fault or her responsibility.

So I went. I smiled. I ignored the staring, the whispering, and everything else I have gotten used to over the years. And I focused on my stepdaughter, something that others have yet to learn.

A funny thing happened: I ended up having fun. My husband and my stepdaughter are like characters in a sitcom when they get together, and I kept laughing at their conversations and reactions to each other. Better yet, my stepdaughter had fun, and I like seeing her happy.

Driving home, my husband and I chatted, whether we liked the restaurant, how our food was, laughing again at jokes made around the table. My husband was quiet a moment, then said, “Every time we are sitting like that, with her across from me and you beside me, makes me realize how lucky I am that I am with you.”

So much could have happened over the years. They could have tried again. I could have walked away from the constant assault. We could have grown tired of the senseless battlefield and given up. One of us could have met someone else, or moved away, or any number of chance circumstances that would have led down very different paths.

Instead, the two people playing in the back yard that day with a little girl in a pink sweater ended up riding home from her 21st birthday celebration together, holding hands in the truck, heading back to their little house and garden. They made it through that battlefield. They made it by trusting each other and holding onto each other during every storm. They grew closer, raised a family, built a home. And now, they deserve to enjoy every moment together: traveling, watching sunsets, playing hooky from work to spend one more day with each other, staying home some days and blissfully doing nothing, watching football and cheering for each other’s team, swapping inside jokes and nicknames and laughing like crazy people, simply sharing as much of each other’s todays together, where they are both happiest.

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