Cheater
Only Cheated Yourself
Dear Other Woman,
Sure, I know who you are.
I know what you've done.
I also know you were not alone in the decision to deceive. You were also not the only one.
Am I angry? Maybe, for a time. Hurt? Yeah, more than I imagined. Wounded? Probably more than I care to admit. But what I am not - is to blame.
I know, I know...I've heard the lines. I must be the terrible person he said I was, because with you, he was such a sweet, strong man. Confident and bold, decisive and generous, until he isn't. Until you question, until you have had enough.
Then, you will be like me, the enemy. A once confident woman, defeated. Not nearly the woman he first met, reduced, less than. Discarded, blamed.
However, he let you go.
Said you were a child he had nothing in common with, until you delivered him a boy. His one and only child, maybe a way to get him to stay or take you back.
Whatever the reason, I no longer care. The facebook and messenger attacks, the phone bombs and accusations mean nothing to me.
You are the equivalent of a monster under the bed. You scared me once, until I realized that you have no power over me. You can't touch me. The only one I care about now, is the boy caught up in this web you have both entangled him in.
What surprised us all, was the sweetness you both created. The one I am raising, calling me mommy, has only added another ripple.
Life is strange.
I only ever wanted to be a mom; it all seems so natural. For you, it is a ploy, a game. Now that you have discarded him, I will do my best to show him what love looks like. The kind that is unconditional, not based on what can be gained, or what he can give.
So, I guess, this is a thank you. Thank you for saving me from a man who never really loved me and giving me a boy who sparkles and shines, craving what you seem incapable to give.
One day, he may reach out to you for that thing a mommy can give. Please...grow-up, sober-up, step-up. He deserves better.
Your willing surrogate.
Momma K
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
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More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Trial Run
Dear Guardian Angel, I'm not sure what you did wrong to get saddled with me and all of my baggage. but it must have been pretty bad. My life has been nothing short of a shitshow, as I'm sure you are well aware. It always has been, if I am honest. From the earliest days I can remember. I pick and choose memories, remembering them as the best days, the good ol' days, but in reality, we were simply surviving. And you were there. It wasn't until I was much older that I realized, what we did, what we saw, was not normal. As a kid, you don't have a clue that not everyone, in fact, most, would never experience what we did, and that it was not normal. And still you stayed with me. Maybe I needed to experience those things to keep me sane as I went through the events that have taken place the past several years. A trial run. I am now able to give myself a bit of credit. Most people would have surrendered, quit, given up, after all of the things that happened. God knows I wanted to. But here I am. I don't know what string, which thread, or what kind of hope kept me rolling out of bed and mimicking normal, day after day. I guess that was you, thank you. Somedays, I catch my reflection, and still see that little girl, hopeful, bold and stubborn. I wonder if she looks back and scoffs, disappointed at how I handled things, at who we've become. I've got this to say to the two of you, just wait. I have no intention of giving up now. I am yet to be what I am meant to be. That day is coming. Thank you for all of your hard work and prodding, it has been an investment, that soon, will pay off. I hope you are proud. Your work in progress - K
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden3 years ago in Poets
Comments (4)
Could be a typo there, "confidant and bold" 😁
Whether this is autobiographical or fiction, I find myself deeply connected to this, though without the broken marriage, only a breaking heart. We adopted our only child. It was an open adoption. His birth mother was my younger sister who is also adopted. It was immediately after our mother's funeral, when we were gathered in the home of our older brother, she told us she was pregnant & was going to give the baby up. She had one son who was turning five & would be going to kindergarten in the fall. She had decided he should have a sibling, so she picked up a guy at a bar & got pregnant. Only after, did she begin considering what effect that might have on her beloved son. Never married. Twice pregnant. This time the birth father was Black. Christian school. Kids can be cruel, especially if they think your mother isn't what their parents think she should be. My wife & I had not planned on having kids of our own. She wasn't even sure she could. Serving churches, we had plenty of kids to claim in our hearts & shower with love. We were in separate cars driving 270 miles home. Each of us thinking the same thing. We want to adopt him. That was June. In September she showed & gifted us with her first sonogram. On October 10th we got the call. She'd been at a movie when she went into labor. 270 miles later we arrived. He was born at 7:01 p.m. We arrived at 7:11. They let us give him his first bath. We cuddled & cooed & fed him 'til visiting hours were over. We had to wait for the paperwork to be filed the next morning before we could take him home. A little over six months later the adoption was finalized & we were a forever family. Everything was great. My sister, who he always knew was his birth mother (we showed him pictures taken at mom's funeral, pointed to her tummy & told him he was there for it), was one of his two favorite aunts. She gave great birthday & Christmas gifts (Wii, iPhone, things like that). The other was my wife's sister. They always had a blast together (& were very noisy which drove her husband bonkers). Then my sister got pregnant again. She'd gone through several marriages (one of which I officiated), none of which lasted long. But she was keeping this one. A girl. White. Just like her older/oldest brother. That devastated him. Not because he didn't love us & love being a part of our family. But because, of the three, he was the one she didn't want. He was bitter for a long time after that. To be honest, I'm not sure he'd ever gotten over it or completely forgiven her before he died. Of course, I do believe his perspective has changed a bit by now, the way such things do once they've been thoroughly whelmed by the grace & love of God's embrace. Still, those wounds he bore add to the wounds we bear for him. We also fostered two brothers for 15 months whose mother & father could never get their lives sorted out. She passed out drunk, fell into a garbage can & died while they were with us. He came for the funeral, fully intending to take the boys with him, but the state would not allowed. He disappeared & we never saw him again. An aunt finally stepped up & provided them with a wonderful home, showering them with love all the while they were growing up. So much more than you wanted to know. Once again, your letter/poem/story was able to stir all this up within me. So..., Great job!
Very nicely laid on the line!
Yes, Momma K 😉💯💬