Psychotic Word Salad: The Offical Memoir Title

Call it what you like, but the Offbeat Drummer would never squash the power of spreading my blog across the world. I'm very happy that another mental health site, HealthShire, is following the diatribes, but I feel compelled to forewarn that my posts aren't entirely, solely about the practice or therapist training in psychology, or the physicality of my mental disorders. In fact, the vast majority of blogs are generated out of my personal feelings, be they love, the people I love, hate, music or defense and self-salvation.

A while ago, I started to follow a Tweeter called the "Chump Lady," who has this utterly deprecating, man-loathing approach to love and marriage. In essence, men are complete assholes, women bond together online  for support against their philandering spouses and often referred to a divorce lawyer. 

The Tweets piqued my attention, so I decided to visit the Chump Lady' site this morning, where I read this rambling, sob tale about some woman's emotionally crumbling because her husband had an affair. Her Twitter and website, so says the Chump, are supposed to offer "infidelity support." 

It was a total bummer that I missed the whole day of strings of threads regarding my post that lit the group a'fire and, as I am wont to do, ruffled some serious feathers. They took down my initial comment and blocked me from further commenting, but then all felt compelled to spend all day talking about what an awful person I am, which I personally find very, very funny, obviously because I'm a bitch of epic magnitude and if I actually gave a damn, it might have merit, but alas, I don't habitually lurk anywhere & nor do I keep deepening the knife of destruction against a forum purely to incite a strong, negative reaction. I fucking read the post, offered my two cents, and went back to bed for like 6 hours. 

Don't ever think I'm SO stupid that I wouldn't save my original post. It's harsh, and blunt, & I'll spare you this woman's like 10 page "Help me! I'm so sad! I'm being left for another woman!" about her husband, his mistress, teetering on divorce and lots of other wah wah blah blah.

I said:

"Suzanne: Of course he loves the other woman, primarily because you come across as being The World's Most Demandingly Impossibly Difficult To Live With Assbag of a Wife. Had you been remotely tolerable, his derailment might not have happened in the first place. You haven't been making a valiant, heroic, respectable attempt to salvage your marriage. You've baited your husband with an iron-clad clause of stringing him up by his balls for having feelings for someone other than you, which is incredibly selfish. The attempt to use being barren as a weapon of sympathy is reprehensible.

Could there be any more blatant man hating on this site? I kind of doubt it.

Yes, grant him a divorce so he has some semblance of a chance of finding the happiness and soul searching of which you've deprived him for such a long time, and to such an egregious degree that the pole up your ass is long enough to hang you horizontally and dry clothes out in the breeze. Men don't accidentally fall into other vaginas...there's always a reason and to assume or assign all of the blame to either partner in a couple is unfair and unreasonable. Your husband may have taken a roundabout exit to end your relationship, but you're no angel; you're vindictive looking on this site for validation and justification ("Let's all gang up on my dick husband!") for what is completely also partly your own fault. Legitimately, there is relationship and marriage burnout, and as years turn into decades, people evolve into a place where they feel comfortable with themselves, and that doesn't necessarily gel smoothly with the person to whom they have been married.

Quit throwing around bourgeois cliches and asking if you're a chump on an internet site devoted to championing the cause of the self-proclaimed chump.

I *am* divorced and it was the best thing my ex-husband and I could've done for one another. We're parents who gel well together but just weren’t meant to be married . I'm also a training psychologist, so I'm not just pulling this out of my ass.

Spare the man further agony, file the papers and move on with your lives."

Which was, of course, the God's honest truth of the matter. But the women on this site were reaching out for comfort and affirmation for what is, in reality, 50% was their own culpability. After my nap, I checked in to see if I'd missed anything, and found myself hooting and hollering in laughter:

Jesus, "Chump Lady," it's no wonder you call yourself a chump and your life mission is to validate other chumps, who also call themselves "Chumps" and instead of empowering women, you take turns whining about what assholes your husbands are and how you're all victims of horribly flawed men. It was implied in the above comment that The Chump in Charge speculated my husband had left me for another women ("OW") when no, sorry, I left my husband.

A "musical psychologist?" Yes, can you fucking believe it? I beat things for relaxation.

Hey, Chumps? Do you comprehend, or are you all drowning so deeply in the tide of your own self-pity that I specifically notated my website into my comment so that you all *would,* in fact, read it? Oh, for fuck's sake. Of course I did. Hang on, I can't hear you because I'm jingling the triangle you joked I played. Dumb asses. This was, out of all the comments, the only one which carried with it any merit whatsoever:

As a general rule, folks, it's an extremely poor idea to try and crack skulls with a feisty, opinionated, fearless, tough punk such as myself (GASP! I was accused of being a FEMINIST!).

Oh, sanity. Way to go and shift the blame onto Suzanne's (soon-to-be lucky) erstwhile husband. Somehow, they convinced themselves early on for a second that it wasn't *me* writing the post but the husband (while I'm on his side, I'm nobody's ghost writer).

They seemed disappointed that Crabby-In-Charge removed my post, because they dissected it all day. That's not fair, as one poster declared:

Oh damn. Anyway,

"Blowhard moron." Come on, you can do better than that. "Ignorant, cruel arrogant and (worst of all) illiterate?" Hi, yeah, sorry to disappoint once again, Happy Homemakers. I have a BA in English and have read Kant's "Critique of Pure Reason." And someone! Quick! Polish the crown for the King!

Well, yes. You are indeed too stupid to live, Erika. A musical psychologist is someone who studies or practices counseling psychology and simultaneously knows how to play a musical instrument. Another shocker.  When asked, which I couldn't answer, if I would ever treat my clients with such disrespect and disdain, that's highly doubtful. Would I sit idly by while a bunch of embittered wives poke needles into the voodoo dolls they've made of their husbands like the Chumps do? Y'all don't know me, but suffice it to say, I sit idly for absolutely NO reason whatsoever. I'll upset the apple cart until every last apple careens down a hill and the truck is empty. I love men. Most of my friends are men. My 2 best girlfriends feel strongly the same way about women, on the other hand. With few exceptions, we all think women are kind of catty bitches who stomp all over the men in their lives. Our mission statement is to salvage such men from the Estrogen Prison in which they're trapped and release them freely to make themselves happy, to thrill their souls. And yes, it can be done.

I'm 3/4 of the way done with year one of graduate school in psychology. I've provided therapy to peers. We're all psychologists/therapists at our learning institution, so nosybody Ms. Terry S., you've got things pretty much all wrong and furthermore, you completely don't understand the meaning of the concept of "projection," but I found your statement funny nevertheless, as will my friends and colleagues:

Because calling out recovering alcoholics and drug addicts who have bipolar dual diagnoses is really fucking sensitive. It doesn't make me a bad person, a bad writer, or a bad psychologist. The opposite is true, really. And my goodness, it took you enough blog snooping to scramble together all of those details to form an erroneous profile of me. Just awesome. Like everyone who reads my blog (especially psychological and medical services, journals and recovery centers) doesn't already know these things. IQ points for Terry just plummeted by about 74 points.

This is, BY FAR, the best unintentionally appropriate and hilarious name for my upcoming memoir:

"Psychotic Word Salad."

Well, Chumpie, this is MY blog and if I fucking feel like it, I can completely tear you and your whiny, man-loathing friends to goddamn shreds. PS, Nutter Butters are one of my favorite cookies. PS, if you were "Lord" of the manor, you wouldn't be a woman in the first place. Pardon my literary criticism of aforementioned simpletons, but royal women are "Ladies," while men are "Lords." Got it?

Wait, big finish at the fireworks show!!!!! 

Really, you can stay seated. A standing ovation really isn't necessary. Notoriety and infamy are treasures which elude too many writers. It certainly is a special day when such obvious, ridiculous fodder just plops into a writer's lap and any writer/author blessed with such base material around which to weave what is a true story should thank his/her lucky stars. Buy golly, fact check first! The life this merry band of fucktards created about me is actually more thrilling and salacious than my actual, real life is. Had I realized I was so tawdry and tabloid-attracting, I might have considered altering the gray hair on my head (which sucks at only age 40!) but instead began collecting ridiculously wild, printed socks that literally pretty much don't match anything, which is fucking glorious.

I would definitely crawl back under the rock from which I emerged, but I get spotty cell service under bridges: 

I love the phrase "Annie can fuck off" so much that I'd almost totally have shirts printed saying that and use that as yet another writer's publicity or marketing tool, so thanks for the razzledazzle. The shirts could be bejeweled and glittery! 

So best of luck, Chumps & Co. I'll keep checking into the pity party, though I can't book a reservation, because it's an awfully large, dangerous barrage of ultra-fanatical freaks who I'm reasonably certain haven't had a quarter of the fantastic sex I've had in my life.

PS, my ex-husband is a total peach (despite being sort of milquetoast) and we'll have one another's backs for life, as we're raising our son together. No hard feelings and ill will tempered and disappeared in a very short period of time (just months after the ink dried on our divorce). 

My thinking is that not only are y'all incapable of learning how to actually file for a divorce, in addition to being clueless regarding how to be close to your ex and his family (and his girlfriend!).

"Chumps" really is kinder than calling you "jealous, vindictive vampires," I suppose...