Recently, Blend contacted me to remove my blog—this one, under a previous name. I have always sworn to myself and my friends that I will 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 cherish. 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 could 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, or his memory . . . You too will find him guilty.
If you read my previous post, you know Blend had called a “family meeting” the night before. At the end of it he made a statement that stuck with me: “Let’s see how things change.”
Things did change. Just not in a good way.
The next day, his bipolar behavior escalated dramatically.
The children had Eucharistic Minister duty at their school from noon until 4 p.m. I woke early that morning and finished a movie I had started the night before. In between scenes, I moved in and out of the kitchen, making breakfast for the kids and ironing their clothes before they left.
Blend had already gone out and did not return until after 10:30 that morning. When he walked in, he asked what was going on in the house.
I reminded him that the kids had a church duty at school that day.
He apologized and said he had forgotten. But the tone suggested something else—almost as if he were trying to imply this was yet another activity he had somehow been excluded from. (Which I later discovered he met a “girlfriend” and walked on the beach with her that morning. Later I found emails she was falling in love with him.) When that angle didn’t work, the mood shifted.
The attitude arrived.
Living with someone who is sex-addicted, bipolar, and paranoid can feel like living with a volatile child. Once the tone changes, you know the rest of the day may follow.
That morning, I could already sense the tension building.
When the House Became Unsettling
After the children left for their school duty, I sat down again to finish the movie.
Almost immediately, Blend came downstairs.
He began moving around the house in a restless, hyper way—opening cabinets, clattering dishes, and making unnecessary noise. It felt deliberate, as though the goal was simply to interrupt the quiet.
He often talked out loud to himself in a low mumbling voice. It was unsettling to listen to, sometimes even frightening.
In the kitchen, he began banging around pots and pans behind me. I turned the television volume up and tried to ignore it so I could finish the program.
Meanwhile, he bounced from room to room—on the computer, singing loudly, whistling, and pacing the house.
Singing might not sound strange on its own, but this wasn’t joyful singing. It was loud, erratic, and completely off-key. The whistling was even stranger—sharp bursts of noise with no rhythm or tune.
At one point, he walked into the living room and tried to start an argument. I wasn’t willing to engage and simply waved him away.
He didn’t take that well.
He called me a few names and told me that “alienating him from the kids” would come back to haunt me and that I would go to hell. That was the spiritual side of him talking.
After that, the hyperactivity escalated. The loud whistling and pacing continued.
I suspected he had been drinking. He sometimes bought cheap alcohol and kept it in his room, supposedly to “drown his sorrows,” though it always felt more like self-pity.
Something was clearly going on because he seemed completely unable to be still.
Choosing Safety Over Confrontation
At one point, he offered to wash the laundry if I separated the clothes.
I needed to get back to my bookkeeping work for tax returns, so I appreciated the offer.
I went into my room to take a shower and get dressed. But as his behavior continued to escalate, I began to feel uneasy.
Eventually, I locked my bedroom door and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon.
I had originally planned to visit a cousin that day, but the plans were canceled. Given the atmosphere in the house, isolating myself felt like the safest choice.
Sometimes, avoiding confrontation is simply the most peaceful option available.
I stayed in my room from around noon until about 4:30, coming out only briefly to grab something to eat. Even lunch became strange—I made a plate and carried it back to my room just to avoid being downstairs.
Meanwhile, the house echoed with loud television, singing, and that sharp, irregular whistling.
At one point, I realized I had turned my own television volume up just so I could think over the noise.
It was a ridiculous way to live.
When the Children Came Home
The children returned home around 4:30 that afternoon.
Almost immediately, they came into my room and climbed onto the bed with me. We spent the evening watching movies, laughing, talking, and simply enjoying one another’s company.
It felt as though they instinctively knew I had endured a difficult day.
For a while, the house felt calm again.
I took a break to make dinner, and Blend continued moving between his room and the laundry area. The children noticed the strange whistling coming from downstairs and even commented on how odd it sounded.
That was the only thing said about it.
The moment the kids arrived home, Blend had gone upstairs and locked himself in his room. You could hear the lock click.
Ironically, during his “family meeting” the night before, the children had complained about this exact behavior—his habit of isolating himself in his room.
Now he seemed to be exaggerating it.
It felt almost like a childish response: “You think I lock myself away? I’ll show you what locking myself away really looks like.”
Dinner Without Him
When dinner was ready, I knocked on his door to let him know.
He didn’t come down.
Eventually, the children and I sat at the table together. We talked and laughed for quite a while.
He came into the kitchen three separate times but never sat down with us.
The first time he told me not to make him a plate—he would do it himself.
He never did.
We stayed at the table, enjoying the quiet moment together.
Eventually, I left the food on the stove. Later, he came down and ate alone.
After a period of time, the children and I returned to my room, where we spent the rest of the evening watching television, working on our laptops, laughing, and simply being together.
A Small Comfort
That night, as I fell asleep, one thought gave me comfort.
The children had instincts.
They sensed things adults sometimes pretend not to see. And that intuition—especially in an unpredictable household—is a powerful thing.
I realized then that their ability to read the room, to feel when something wasn’t right, might one day help protect them.
And that, at least, was something good.
Reflections: Looking Back
Looking back now, a few things about that day stand out clearly:
Sudden mood shifts often set the emotional tone for the entire household.
When behavior becomes chaotic or unpredictable, creating distance can sometimes be the safest response.
Children often sense tension and instability long before adults acknowledge it.
The moment when quiet suspicions turn into undeniable truth.
Building a Future That Looked Promising
For years, Blend had built beautiful homes for other people. Eventually, we decided it was time to build one for ourselves. Breaking ground on our own home, built by us, felt like the beginning of something positive. Construction began, plans were moving forward, and life appeared stable.
About six months into the project, however, my professional life suddenly shifted. The company I worked for closed its doors, leaving me with an unexpected decision: search for another job or rebuild the business I had once operated myself. After careful thought, we chose to revive my business. I already had a strong client base, and with the construction project underway, it seemed like the most practical solution.
At the time, everything still appeared manageable.
Loss and Unexpected Absences
Around the same time, Blend’s grandmother became seriously ill and eventually passed away. Because our children were in school and I had the flexibility of working for myself, Blend made several trips back to the Northeast alone to be with family. Those trips seemed understandable. They allowed him to reconnect with relatives and longtime friends during a difficult time.
What I didn’t realize then was that those trips were also opening doors to a reality I hadn’t yet seen clearly.
The First Warning
One Saturday in early summer, something small but important happened. My son, Wil, mentioned that while he and Blend were supposed to be working at the construction site, Blend had spent a surprising amount of time on his phone.
At first, it sounded like a minor observation. But something about it lingered in my mind. After years of strange behavior and unanswered questions, that comment became the nudge that pushed me to start looking more closely.
When the Truth Appears
Not long after, I discovered a series of text messages. The messages revealed that Blend was involved with another woman. The moment I read them, the illusion I had been holding onto began to collapse. The situation was no longer about suspicion or uneasy feelings—it was evidence.
When I confronted him, the conversation quickly escalated. What began as an argument soon turned into a frightening physical confrontation, forcing me to call the police. That moment marked a turning point. It was no longer possible to pretend everything could simply return to normal.
Discovering the Bigger Picture
Once that first discovery was made, more information began to surface. What I found revealed that the situation wasn’t limited to one relationship. There were multiple women and a long trail of deception that stretched much further back than I had realized.
Despite the evidence, Blend continued to deny the truth and minimize what had happened. The pattern of denial had become familiar by that point. But the situation itself continued to deteriorate.
Christmas Eve
By the time the holidays arrived, the tension in our home had become overwhelming. On Christmas Eve, Blend’s behavior erupted again in another angry outburst. It was a painful reminder of how toxic the environment had become—not only for me, but for our children. There was a physical altercation with Blend on top of me, on gravelled ground, trying to bang my head into the rocks. Fortunately, I am wiry, and he is little. I escaped from the altercation and locked myself in a room.
A Friend Steps In
Around that time, a close relative, whom we will call Lee, came to visit. Sometimes, an outside perspective can bring clarity when you are living inside chaos every day. Lee’s support helped me take a step back and see the situation more objectively. Together, we uncovered even more evidence of the deception that had been unfolding.
With every new discovery, my resolve grew stronger.
The Moment Everything Changed
One evening, Blend’s behavior escalated again while I was out with Lee. We had over 150 frightening messages between the two of us, composed by Blend. We went to a neighbor’s home rather than expose ourselves to his rage. When our neighbor listened to the messages — the situation ended with the police becoming involved and Blend being arrested.
It was a moment of reckoning.
For the first time, the reality of the situation could no longer be ignored—not by me, not by the authorities, and not by anyone who had witnessed what was happening.
When the Situation Became About Protecting My Children
During one of our confrontations, Blend said something that changed everything for me. In the middle of the argument, he admitted that he had experienced inappropriate sexual thoughts about our teenage daughters, who were only fifteen at the time. Hearing that stopped me cold. He tried to make it seem like it was my fault and he needed to discuss it with me.
Until that moment, the situation had been about betrayal within the marriage—infidelity, lies, and the chaos those things had created in our home. But that statement shifted my entire focus. It was no longer about trying to repair a relationship.
It became about protecting my children!
For any parent, hearing something like that activates an instinct that overrides everything else. From that moment forward, my priority became making sure my daughters were safe and removing them from an environment that had become deeply unhealthy.
It was one of the clearest catalysts that pushed me toward the decision to leave.
A Hard Lesson About Boundaries
One of the difficult lessons I learned during those years is that when compulsive sexual behavior or addiction escalates, boundaries can become dangerously distorted.
Not every situation unfolds this way, but in some cases, the constant search for attention and sexual validation erodes the limits that should always exist inside a family.
For anyone facing similar warning signs, it is important to trust your instincts and take those concerns seriously. Protecting children must always come first.
The Decision to Leave
Soon afterward, something happened that ultimately guided my decision. My children came to me and asked if we could leave. They wanted to escape the constant tension and instability that had become part of our daily lives. They were no longer happy with our home life or their school.
Hearing those words from them made the decision clear. I packed up our lives, left everything behind, and moved across the country to start over.
It was one of the most difficult decisions I had ever made. But it was also the beginning of something new—a chance to rebuild our lives away from the chaos that had defined so many years. Sometimes it takes a catalyst to finally see the truth clearly.
And sometimes that catalyst is the moment when you realize your children deserve a different life.
Reflection
Major life changes rarely happen all at once. They often begin with small moments—an observation, a discovery, a conversation that shifts your understanding. Those moments can become catalysts that push us to make decisions we once believed were impossible.
