I am not sure what is wrong with you. You seemed like a really nice person, you were always cheerful and always so kind. Then I guess hiding the true you become to much.
You do nothing but create drama every where you go. I want a divorce, I want to get back together, I want a divorce, I want to get back together. Not only are you mind fucking the man you say you love, but you are tormenting your own children. Every time you say you want to reconcile those little girls are so thrilled to have family time again and then you just pull the rug out from under them.
Maybe you are too self involved, too busy blaming others for YOUR problems, too busy in this sick passive aggressive, controlling relationship you have with your mother, but I see it. I see the hurt in the girls. They tell me they do not want to go to your mother's house. the house you choose to live in. The house you swore was so emotionally abusive when you were a child and so manipulative and now you put those girls right back where you were. Look how it screwed you up, your words not mine. You are putting your whims and your weaknesses before your children.
It is sad when they tell me their hurts and their disappointments. I hope you are proud of what a great mother you are. I am by no means perfect. As I right this this, I sit here with my own internal struggle. I struggle to clean out all the drama you and your "friend" (I use quotes, because you claim you are not friends but I know of no one that exercises with someone, goes out to eat with someone, house sits for someone, and is not their friend...again you lie) have dropped in my lap.
You know what I see, I see that I can recognize my hurts and my faults. I consciously work on improving myself and being a better human being. I focus my life on the positive and when people like you try to fill my my mind with negative, I am taken for a time, but then I will step back and see just how sick you are. You need help and you will not be a part of my life or welcome in my home until you have been through therapy and you see how poisonous your actions are and how many people you have hurt.
You do nothing but create drama every where you go. I want a divorce, I want to get back together, I want a divorce, I want to get back together. Not only are you mind fucking the man you say you love, but you are tormenting your own children. Every time you say you want to reconcile those little girls are so thrilled to have family time again and then you just pull the rug out from under them.
Maybe you are too self involved, too busy blaming others for YOUR problems, too busy in this sick passive aggressive, controlling relationship you have with your mother, but I see it. I see the hurt in the girls. They tell me they do not want to go to your mother's house. the house you choose to live in. The house you swore was so emotionally abusive when you were a child and so manipulative and now you put those girls right back where you were. Look how it screwed you up, your words not mine. You are putting your whims and your weaknesses before your children.
It is sad when they tell me their hurts and their disappointments. I hope you are proud of what a great mother you are. I am by no means perfect. As I right this this, I sit here with my own internal struggle. I struggle to clean out all the drama you and your "friend" (I use quotes, because you claim you are not friends but I know of no one that exercises with someone, goes out to eat with someone, house sits for someone, and is not their friend...again you lie) have dropped in my lap.
You know what I see, I see that I can recognize my hurts and my faults. I consciously work on improving myself and being a better human being. I focus my life on the positive and when people like you try to fill my my mind with negative, I am taken for a time, but then I will step back and see just how sick you are. You need help and you will not be a part of my life or welcome in my home until you have been through therapy and you see how poisonous your actions are and how many people you have hurt.
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