Guilt or No Guilt

Recently, Blend contacted me to remove my blog—this one, under a previous name. I have always sworn to myself, my friends, and my God that I would never pull it down. So I simply renamed it. Often, things happen for a reason. This new title is actually more likely to be found, with the right search words, for the problem you are having.

Blend could not handle reading about himself, what he did to me, and what he did to destroy a family. His family and my family = our children.

He sent multiple emails and texts and cried, telling stories of how my blog is a twisted truth. He’s right, it is—twisted, that is. He is twisted, and the poor soul will never be straightened out until he gets the help he needs.

Rarely do I think of Blend anymore. He is a part of my past that I do not have cherished memories of. He’s developed a part of me that will forever remain different. It’s not a good part, and I stay as clear from it as I possibly can. It’s important to me that I don’t let my experiences with him hurt others or their relationship with me. I can’t fathom the thought that he would linger that way in my life. I prefer to always consider him far gone.

When he makes contact and sends me and friends messages about me in an effort to hurt me, that’s when I do think of him. He must have such a huge sense of guilt; he cannot let go. It must be horrible to think that for at least 18 years, you had a problem that your spouse and friends tried to get you to accept getting help for, and you refused. A mother who harbored his illness and sometimes even fed it, and a closet so dark that not even he can see beyond it. I visualize him still sitting at his computer on a regular basis. Seeking women of all shapes, sizes, and yes…unfortunately, ages. Quickly developing an online relationship with them and masturbating to their words and photos nightly. When I was away, the hours he spent on chat calls and long-distance calls to women as desperate as he, and eventually meetings with like women or unsuspecting women who have no idea—he’s only in it for the thrill of the chase.

But then I realize, there is no more thrill for him. There is no longer an innocent wife in the background with the opportunity to “catch: him at what he is doing. No heart pounding, adrenaline rushes at my expense. So what is he doing now? I suspect he is searching for another faithful victim like me. An innocent who will not learn until years later that he has a pattern. God help those who continue to fall victim to him, whether it’s the one in the foreground or hidden somewhere in his car door, his wallet, his phone, his computer, his memory . . . you too will find him guilty.