My Life is Jerry Springer Show

If I were to apply to be a guest on the Jerry Springer Show, which episode should I go for?

My Cheating Husband Claims I’m a Lesbian or My Cheating Husband Broke Into My House and Won’t Leave Me Alone and I Called the Police? Or should I find a talk show that’s geared just a bit differently and apply for episodes such as My Cheating Husband Tried to Sell the House From Under Me or My Cheating Husband Sends Me Drunk Texts at Night or When Will My Life Be Normal?

Or do I skip the talk shows and start working on a book entitled How To Divorce a Narcissist and Retain Your Sanity in 12 Easy Steps? Thing is, it would be more like 12 thousand steps, and those steps are a winding rickety staircase of ice. Every hundred steps or so you fall and backslide and take a beating. And the big, beautiful, peaceful promised future way up in the sky looks so impossibly out of reach.

But back to Jerry Springer. I’ve taken to referring to my life as an episode of the infamous talk show that features ridiculous fights, dysfunction, and discord often in the form of physical altercations over issues that seem insane. The physical altercations are encouraged for the audience’s amusement and the bouncers having to break it up is common. If Jerry gets a bloody nose in the process, that’s the icing on the cake. It’s sort of like a very ghetto pre-apocalyptic version of the Hunger Games.

So while there have been no physical fights between anyone, the level of drama and insanity this past week and a half has run high. I do believe that PC continues to circle the drain and lose touch with reality and how the incredible insanity of how he is handling things is exactly why he is not “winning”. He continues to try to hit every single area of my life with his poison.

The latest is he claimed that the death of our marriage was, in fact, my fault. Not his. He was led astray because I was absent, didn’t pay attention to him for years, because I let the family go…all for my love of someone else. Guess who the someone else was? My best friend. Yes, yes. Girls nights, texting conversations, bonding, fun and frolic…all of those things clearly indicate that I was cheating on him (with a woman). I do believe that he, being slightly homophobic, felt that I would find the lesbian part of his accusation insulting. Quite frankly, I found the entire thing funny–as did every single person I shared with it. And quite frankly? At this stage of the game I’d be happy to turn into a lesbian.

The disturbing, Jerry Springer part of it is the simple fact that PC is wrong. PC left me. PC cheated on me. PC continues to try to screw me over. PC is verbally abusive. PC abandoned his children, his home and his finances. PC DID ALL OF THIS! The disturbing factor is that he is trying everything and anything he can to bring me down with him. Blame me. Put some of the fault on me.

The ironic part is the burden…the burden of this limbo not-married-not-divorced lifestyle is so heavily on me I can barely stand at times. PC is off frolicking with his Trollup and I’m left to be the goddamn grown-up. Care for the kids in all ways. Figure out how to pay for things. Deal with the immense amount of “things” that he is not dealing with, only fighting about: titles to cars, insurance, custody, selling our house (or not). On top of all the day-to-day crap of broken laptops and blizzards and sick kids and a 5-year-old who tried to shave her legs (I’ll let you imagine how that went.)

Yesterday, PC showed up and when he went to come in (because you know, even though he left he feels he should be allowed to come and go as he pleases) and the door was bolted. Instead of knocking, texting me, or anything a sane person would do, he BROKE IT DOWN, ripping the inner frame off. Literally, he broke in. For no reason. He had all kinds of claims as to why he was justified in breaking in by physical force less than 30 seconds after pulling into the driveway. Its my house! he claimed…despite the fact that he left this house 4 months ago to go live a fantasy life with the Trollup.

In his mind, when he went to open the door and couldn’t, things such as knocking, ringing the doorbell, or texting me (although I was literally walking to the door when he began slamming his stupid self into it) were obsolete choices? There was no emergency, the children were not inside being kept from him, and I’m the one who lives here. It’s my home. I don’t care if his name is on the deed, its such a huge invasion of privacy and it’s not the first time he has just appeared and walked in to MY SPACE as if he lives here. I told him to get out, to leave, and he would not and so I made a conscious decision to call the police.

In the aftermath (nothing happened, they took our statements, encouraged me to file a PFA, gave PC a hefty warning–and I won’t lie, I enjoyed watching them frisk him) it occurred to me that I never, ever expected to be involved in this type of lifestyle. One where people scream and fight and hurl insults and obscenities as though it’s a second nature. A life where I put chains on doors just to protect my space and even that is not enough. A life where I’m biting my tongue while texting the Trollup because she’s the saner of the two of them and PC has now just gone ahead and started taking the kids around her, despite my feelings about it.

A life where every single day I have no idea what he will do next.  A life in which my days are spent trying to figure how the hell to get ahead in this horrible legal system. A life in which I take medication for anxiety and medication for depression and have to smile and say “sure” when the kids want Dad and Trollup to take them to the zoo instead of me. A life in which he gets to be Disneyland Dad and I get to be the responsible adult parent, the one who says no every single day to my kids for many reasons, but often because I have NO money (thanks again, legal system. You are officially abysmal.)

I’ve become fond of saying “every time I think it can’t get crazier” in regards to his behavior, his lies, his insanity in his claims and fabricated delusion. Yet everytime, it does get crazier. You should write a book is the general consensus, and I do believe I shall. You know, once I don’t need to spend my days going to domestic relations offices and repairing broken door frames and crafting emails to my lawyer while swallowing bile as I think about how much money has been spent already…

Until then….I will consider each “episode” to be my very own episode of Jerry Springer. At least I am able to laugh (sometimes) about the absurdity of it all. But underneath, its highly disturbing and I can only continue to climb the steps to try, try and bring myself closer to that life I want that seems so far away. Simple. Peaceful. Authentic.




2 thoughts on “My Life is Jerry Springer Show

  1. I might have recommended Chump Lady to you. I do it for everybody who deals with crazy. Her blog is a perfect fit for you. You are going to find MANY familiar stories there.


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