During the next fifteen years, following that divorce, I managed to rack-up two more marriages. The Luck-of-the-Irish hung with me. Things happened, though none as dramatic as in my past.
There isn't a lot to be said, or that I want to say, about my short-lived third marriage. When that marriage ended, I decided to leave California and move back to my hometown. I was still selling life insurance then.
My last legitimate marriage was to a widower with five underage children, He was vice president of an insurance agency. It sold insurance to businesses. I realized after it ended, what a sick, humongous ego I must have had. He was a functioning alcoholic. The children were spoiled geniuoses, and undisciplined kids without an ounce of common sense. I somehow thought I could rescue them all.
I did a lot to help them during the eight years we were married but - I was diagnosed with bi-polar in a strange way during that time. Hospitalized, they gave me lithium, and said, "If it works, you have it, if it doesn't you don't."
It was like a warm blanket spreading over my speeding brain. I didn't stay on the drug for many months, but my mind never functioned the same again.
I did a stint in rehab, when one doctor put me on an addicting medication, and another doctor took me off of it. I went into acute withdraw. When I got out of rehab, my fourth marriage went downhill fast and led to yet another divorce.
His dead wife died of alcoholic poisoning. She didn't even drive so almost everything needing to be done, was left up to him to do. The last child was fathered by a priest. What a mess. I was finally able to become Catholic as they were Catholic. Ironically, the same priest I had known in the orphanage, was able to get my past erased.
When that marriage started going south, my rebellious nature took over again. He was never the head of our household, in fact he offered, soon after we were married, to give me all the money I needed if I took care of the kids, while he tried to become a professional golfer. No deal. The only leadership he showed was being strict about everyone attending mass every week. I took over running the house. I eventually quit going to church in protest. I should have ended up in a nuthouse instead of rehab.
Maybe because he threatened me with the mafia if I messed with his money. my lawyer didn't fight very hard. I had never asked for money before and I had no intention of robbing him. When we married, he was deep in debt. Through my help, he was able to get rid of it and devote more time to his business, to succeed more.
After My name was dragged through the mud in court, I was awarded a pittance. One of his daughters even forged my name at the bank. He was able to hide much of his assets. Offering to put a down payment on a small house in midtown for me instead of cash, was a smart move. I'm sure he realized I couldn't keep it and he could own it too. I took the cash.
I bought a used camper to tow behind my little baby-blue, step-side truck. It had a wooden frame. Not a good choice it turned out. It was cheap. Except for a quickie marriage while visiting in Arizona-he was still married, I never married again.
I finally realized I was not only too damaged for marriage, I also drew unworthy partners. I had met good men who cared, but my picker was broken. If I couldn't run them off I married them.
Thirty-two years left.
Continued-
Author Notes
Thank you Highfife for the great art. Blessings.
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