Auditing The Lookback Period

Suffice it to say that I journaled ad nauseum after my husband ghosted me in 2011. In cleaning out some old storage bins a few years later, I ran across my early journals. As I read them, I found myself shaking my head and musing, “Oh, my word! Did I actually come out and say that?!” I couldn’t believe I even had such thoughts—let alone documented them in writing—and then forget what I’d put in writing.

Oh The Humor Of Rewriting …

I sat dawn and reviewed all those old entries. There in those leather moleskin journals were the bones of what would later become sinewy and pithy derivative works. Still smoldering in the ashes were faint specks of the glowing embers of my long lost humor. They’d been present—even back there in the ‘dark days’.

I decided to do some major rewrites, building upon the main premise of those early entries. The process of adding humor and expanding on those frameworks turned out to be a fun and cathartic process. I added my new point of view about my ex and all the flying monkeys my ex used as vicarious minions during my ordeal.

Wounded Pride

My husband’s very public ghosting of our marriage humiliated me—mortally wounding my pride. No big surprise there. I think that’s a natural reaction though. For the first few years, I hid in shame. Ever the Pollyanna People Pleaser, I could be counted on not to disappoint.

Yep, I stayed to the script and hid like a good obedient dump-ee, leaving my husband and his new woman free reign to define the entire narrative. God only knows what story line they crafted to justify their happenstance [ha!] reunion. No doubt, it cast them in the best light to onlookers, And why wouldn’t it? They propagated their tale totally unhindered by any fact-checking or rebuttal from me—the pathetic jilted ex.

However, with the fortuitous location of my old journals, that changed. You see, also packed away in those storage bins were my big girl britches. Once I put them on, I decided to come out swinging—aggregating my revised journals into a tell-all expose that I lovingly dubbed ‘My Digital Drive By Collection.’


Etymology Lesson 54: What Is A Digital ‘Drive By’?

Webster’s Dictionary defines digital a drive-by as: When you’ve ‘got someone’s number’ and you lampoon them with sarcasm and satire, using short quips and verbal barbs using digital media. Synonyms: satirize; mock; parody; tease.


Black Box Warning aka Bob & Weave, Don’t Get Hit

I probably should have placed a prominent warning on my initial Drive By Collection. It needed a disclaimer to warn that it was NOT for overly sensitive readers or those not possessing the ability to laugh. I nailed a bunch of things—and a lot of unnamed individuals—to the cross with merciless satire. However, the person I mocked most was myself—lampooning my ignorance and plethora of mistakes. After all, I had been the idiot who married this man in the first place, so all fingers pointed back to me.

I opened the flood gates and told it like it really was! The folks I wrote about absolutely-positively deserved a whopping dose of public humiliation—if not flogging and tar and feathering. But I used an equal amount of restraint. Well, sometimes. LOL No, seriously, I was considerate in that I never used anyone’s real names.

A Need To Feel Heard

The cold hard facts were that I was in pain—for quite a long time. Unfortunately, until I healed, my pain and anguish took center stage, robbing me of my energy and creativity. Put another way, I allowed the unfathomable hurt to dilute my innate spit and vinegar. As a consequence, there were WAY too many times that I did not speak up for myself, or call people out. However, when I found my old journals, the worm certainly turned. In my Digital Drive By Collection I wrote targeted essays to various unnamed individuals, letting them know that, indeed, I had been aware of what had been said and done. I knew who was doing what at the time it occurred. I was simply too out of commission to respond.

But what’s that old saying about laughing? He who laughs best, laughs what? … Yes … laughs last.  

Humor Hops Aboard The Karma Bus

Yes-sir-ee Bob! That whole ‘Ordeal’ was a real knee-slapper for me. When I finally decided it was my turn to have a say, I had fun with my digital drive-bys. And while I certainly would’ve loved nothing better than to return tit-for-tat by blatantly exposing my detractors with their real names or identifying characteristics, I didn’t. Instead, I let readers’ minds wander. I left it up to them to speculate as to whom I was referring. As Pooh once said, “Think … Think …. Think …” At the end of the day, it was fun. It was cathartic. And now it’s over.  But it was still funny.

As a matter of fact, Blondie is still singing about it. [Big cheshire cat grin.]