Thiefy

It's official: I have not spoken a single, solitary word to my cunt mother in over three years! Hooray! If I were still a drinker I would pop open a bottle of champagne! Things did not improve after I cut her out of my life, but it was a beginning - the very first step on the road to recovery. I removed the main source of pain, illness and disease from my life. Then, despite removing the hate I was literally born with, I spent at least two years in the most profound darkness and depression. Around this time last year I had hit rock bottom in the sense that I was no longer eating at all or doing ANYTHING besides drinking coffee all day and getting drunk on cheap beer at night. I could not feel a single, solitary emotion save the black grief that choked me every second of every day. Then even the alcohol did not provide an escape. It was definitely not fun.

Since then I have been slowly but surely improving on a daily basis. Rome was not built in a day. All I want to do is put one brick down a day. What that means is that by December 31st, 2010 I'll have 365 bricks laid down. That's almost a wall.

But enough of the feel-good stuff. I wouldn't be able to save my own self if that worthless cunt was still in my life. She'd be hurting, damaging, undermining me at every turn - and that is why it is so good that she is gone. Her absence does not prevent me from falling into darkness and depression. But her presence CERTAINLY throws me into those states and not only that, but her presence undermines any and everything I do to improve or feel better.

"Cunt" is a very angry word. What I oddly realized last night is that I'm no longer very angry with the cunt. It's refreshing to not feel the old chancre of hate and anger that I used to feel for her.

I mean, don't get me wrong, she is still a cunt, a liar, a THIEF (who shamelessly steals from her own flesh and blood, who would slaughter her own flesh and blood for a dollar - at least now all her harsh judgements of me have been rendered invalid and I have been vindicated), a cold-blooded psychopath and an ogreish child-brutalizing monster, but I now consider being born to her to be just the first in a long line of personal mistakes.

It was sometime in February of 2007 when I wrote her the note telling her that I never wanted to see or speak to her again for the rest of eternity.

Looking back on my "final farewell" letter I realize that the style of the letter was a bit vain and pretentious. I knew she would probably show the note to her friend Toni and I wanted Toni to think I was a great writer and give my "final farewell" letter a good critique! Oh, I suppose I'll always be a bit vain and why not? I am great.

Good critique or not (I suppose I'll never know) I am so grateful that the evil bitch is gone from my life. I'm hardly ever angry with her because I hardly even think of her!

Freedom, here I come!

Last night I was shocked to realize that