Well, Asshole, I found them. You sonofabitch, I found them. Only of course they were soaked wet years ago and left to mildew & molder all these years so I'll never be able to wear them again.
What's worse, though, is that the handsewn quilt I had from my great-grandmother? The one I had in a zippered garment bag to protect? The one I'd carefully guarded since I was a girl? Yeah, he got that one wet, too, and had it shoved back in that remote corner. Bastard. I can't even have that connection to her because it's so moldy & horrible, I have to throw it out, too.
What a motherfucking bastard.
Sweet God in Heaven, why did he do this to me???????? Why did he have to ruin everything of mine? If this was a natural disaster I could understand the loss of these items. But this instead is a truly evil, soulless being in human form. What kind of a person destroys another person's entire life like this? I didn't do anything to him but love him & want the best for him. When he was sick I nursed him. When he was injured or had operations I cared for him. I supported him when he was chronically unemployed. I never questioned him. I always believed in him.
Wishing I could tie him to a chair & beat him up right about now...
"Wishing I could tie him to a chair & beat him up right about now..." You couldn't do anything as bad to him as what he will do to himself now that he can't piggy-back off of your sanity anymore. That level of crazy is self-destructive for sure.
I'm so sorry you're dealing with so much and still discovering the damage that loser has caused.
And here I am, stupid me, carefully sorting through his shit, packing it up, labeling the boxes, trying to make some semblance of logical order in regards to what gets packed into what boxes (like with like). What a moron I am. I should just throw half the shit out and mix everything else up that remains. Let him sort it out. You wouldn't believe the proprietary software & corporate information he stole over the years. Disks & disks & reams of documents of proprietary information. Just walked out the door with it and brought it home.
Again I'm hit with the "who the hell did I marry???" thoughts. And of course the utter terror that I have to share my children with him. Just this kind of shit alone is scary enough. Then to add on all the disgusting perverted sexual stuff...
I will pay this advice forward:
You can't make sense out of nonsense. You will never wrap your head around or understand. You will make yourself crazy trying. (literally) Because the more you focus on his crazy and brokenness, the more you continue to react to him and his crazy and defeat your process of detaching.
I don't know what you are proving with the garage. Is it a mountain you must climb "because it is there?" You don't have to answer that. If the garage is your Mount Everest then plan, train, be safe, and for God's sake take a hiking partner.
I am sorry. Sorry and sympathetic.
Do see about restoration for the quilt. I like the idea of salvaging something from the destruction.
[This message edited by dmari at 10:43 PM, July 20th (Saturday)]
Are you in IC? I want to say this gently as possible - I think the question you need to ask yourself is why you allowed yourself to be treated in such a manner instead of why did he treat you in such a manner?
You will never get an answer as to why he did this. He is a sick man. But hopefully you will figure out why you stayed with him. Hopefully you will never succumb to such treatment again.
This process of clearing out the garage seems to be a slow and agonizing torture for you. I feel as though he is victimizing you again and again as you sort through more and more.
I hope I am wrong, and instead, finding your things is empowering to you. But for heaven's sake just toss his junk - don't let him control you anymore.
I wish you peace ahead.
For the photo albums, can you keep them and somehow restore them too?
I hope you are able to restore the quilt.
You might want to sleep on it before you throw anything away. If you have been spending hours in that garage and you are exhausted (physically and emotionally), a good night's rest may give you better perspective and a clearer head in the monring.
That is so devastating to not only have someone ruin your life (married life with kids), but to also try to ruin your PAST as well is truly demented.
But at least I can get over it quicker.
As an example of how much better I am than I used to be, I just two nights ago I found sex & blowjob pictures of him as well as what I think is a mostly empty vial of coke. Didn't trigger me. My heart didn't even beat faster. I know all that stuff already. Seen a hundred pictures just like 'em or worse already.
But this deliberate cruelty? My childhood pictures deliberately ruined? My great-grandmother's quilt? That's just so mean. So I'm having to process it.
I get stuck envisioning him ditching your stuff in the garage and as you are asking about it... what the hell is in his head? "You'll never find your pink cardigan - take that you bitch" ...? Seriously? Wtf is wrong with him?
I get you going through the stuff...to save what you can. But I vote that you throw whatever is his into hefty bags and then toss your ruined and moldy things, that are un-salvageable, in with his belongings and let nature take it's course. He wanted them so bad -- let him have them now.
There was a place here in my state that was offering to restore pictures for tornado victims. So it might be possible to restore your pictures.
He is a sorry piece of shit!
It is what it is.
Me: Hey, where are my ____ jeans? I can't find them!
STBX: What jeans?
Me: My ____ jeans. I can't find them anywhere.
STBX: I don't know what you're talking about.
Me: OMG, I wore them when we went to _____. Whatever, I used to have them, now I can't find them.
STBX: You never had ____ jeans.
Me: I certainly did. I've had them for years. Where could they be?
STBX: What did you do with them?
Me: I don't know!
STBX: Maybe you ought to clean out your drawers/closet, then you wouldn't lose stuff.
And all the while they were stuffed in a bag in the garage slowly moldering with a bunch of other clothes that mysteriously disappeared. As well as that quilt.
And never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.
― Sarah McMane
My ipad does a lot of crazy typos.