As I read through my entry of last week, I realize that I must clear up any misunderstandings regarding my parents and family. What I write is MY reality of a situation not anyone elses.

My family has been nothing short of encouraging during all my problems.

During my first marriage (to Bob) my family and especially my parents were my rock of salvation. As far as I was concerned we had a fairly happy life. Bob had a good job, I was raising our children and trying to get a horse breeding/showing business started. He seemed as if he was as interested in the horse business as I was. As our marriage dragged along,however; he seemed to change little by little.

The s**t hit the fan Christmas time 1976. We had hosted a party for our close neighbors and I thought it went quite well and was feeling happy. The next morining (about 2 weeks before Christmas) I sat down with him, just to talk with him...you know? The next thing he's telling me that he doesn't love me anymore. I couldn't believe it...how could I miss or were there any signs!

The kids were at my parents house and as I drove over there (at a high rate of speed) I thought how easy it would be to just let go of the wheel. This was the first time I thought of suicide.

My kids saved me that day. The idea of having no mother for them changed my mind.

Bob started coming home later and later. Sometimes he didn't come home at all. I learned that he was going to strip clubs with his friends from work. I guess at this point I should tell you,

constant reader (thanks Stephen King for that title) I was doing everything to hang on to my marriage...and I do mean EVERYTHING! Bob started running around with other women...

girls really, just a couple years out of high school. In our small town gossip travels fast. He stopped putting money into our checking account...I couldn't pay the bills. When we needed fuel for our furnace I would have to hide when the man came to the door for payment. Bob bought himself a new car and I was left with our old truck that ran...or not. Eventually the truck stopped running. At that point my parents had to bail me out yet again and get me a car. They also paid my bills.

I ended up filing for a divorce. Bob wouldn't leave the house. One Sunday, while he was playing basketball with some guys, I took all his clothes and other belongings and put them into the back seat of his car. He Still came to the house. It was not until my lawyer filed papers and Bob was served them by the Sheriff did he finally leave. I still remember hiding up in the upstairs bedroom with the kids, as he was served. I learned later that he lived out of his car for a while.

I tried to make the divorce as civil as possible. I explained to the kids what was going on.

I gave Bob pots and pans and other stuff for his apartment. But I was the one that had to tell HIS parents about the divorce since he didn't do it. Talk about a chicken s***t guy.

Well, better close for now. Let my fingers take a rest. Peace to all my readers. Moonmaiden