Dear Beverly

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Just stopped in to say that you are in my heart throughout each day.

       You remembered me.

Always.

Still having trouble with understanding the insanity of it all.

I get the part about how you finally took control of your life.

I get that part.   I don’t like it, but I get it.

I don’t like where it took you.

I feel that I could have done so much more.

What I don’t get is the insanity.

What would you say about an ex-husband who surreptitiously monitors the phone bills of his divorced ex-wife?

Would that be a stalker?

By all accounts it was a nasty divorce that included:

Business bankruptcy

Personal bankruptcy.

The sale and division of what property remained.

A child with another woman.

Business lawsuits with partners in another state.

What if the same ex-husband then used those phone bills to try to intimate others?

Would that be a sociopath? 

I’m not a psychiatrist, so I’d only be guessing, but that sort of behavior seems sociopathic in nature to me. 

It is certainly not normal behavior by any standard.

What if that same ex-husband then made copies of those phone bills, highlighted certain calls made by his ex-wife in yellow marker and then hand-delivered those same phone records clandestinely with a hand written note that begins, “I appreciate of (sic) your trying to convince me that it was only catching up on old times.” 

He was referring to a phone conversation where a certain somebody — not me, I had my turn — drilled him a new ass hole for being a liar (pretending to be a dead man) and a stalker.  

He then finished the note by saying “Considering I felt that (names omitted) were back together.   Thanks for trying anyway.”   And then signed it “Your Friend.”

We called this — and the ones that followed — packages of hate.

Hmmmm?   How does that work, “back together?”  The ex-wife living under the protection of her mother in Newbury Park and that ex-husband living elsewhere … miles and miles away from Newbury Park.   How is that “back together?”  

A certain ex-husband not welcome — ever — into the ex-wife’s mother’s home. 

How is that “back together?”

That seems delusional, but then I’m not a psychiatrist.

I do know one thing, by benefit of what unfolded over the next four years, if this particular ex-husband would have been confronted on the front porch of his home on the same day that he delivered his first vile message of hate with a simple question, “what is your problem?,” then perhaps the final — very definitive — outcome might have been avoided.

We will never know.  

But people need to stand up to stalkers and bullies. 

They thrive when well-meaning people just hope and pray that they will get tired and go away. 

They never do.  

Seven packages of hate — hand delivered — over three years … five to one person (who finally called the sheriff), one to a relative (at her work) and one to a co-worker (at her work).  

Seven packages of hate, because he would not stop until, sadly, you took control of your life.

It has been over five months now and not a peep out of that ex-husband.

A tune for you today ... someday never came.

Taylor Swift: Mean

You, with your words like knives
And swords and weapons that you use against me
You have knocked me off my feet again
Got me feeling like I'm nothing
You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard
Calling me out when I'm wounded
You picking on the weaker man

You can take me down with just one single blow
But you don't know, what you don't know...

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Why you gotta be so mean?

You, with your switching sides
And your wildfire lies and your humiliation
You have pointed out my flaws again
As if I don't already see them
I walk with my head down
Trying to block you out 'cause I'll never impress you
I just wanna feel okay again

I bet you got pushed around
Somebody made you cold
But the cycle ends right now
'Cause you can't lead me down that road
And you don't know, what you don't know...

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Why you gotta be so mean?

And I can see you years from now in a bar
Talking over a football game
With that same big loud opinion
But nobody's listening
Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things
Drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing
But all you are is mean

All you are is mean
And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life
And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean

But someday I'll be living in a big ol' city
And all you're ever gonna be is mean, yeah
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Why you gotta be so?..

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city (Why you gotta be so?..)
And all you're ever gonna be is mean (Why you gotta be so?..)
Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me (Why you gotta be so?..)
And all you're ever gonna be is mean
Why you gotta be so mean?