Fucks Are Finite and I’ve None Left

Fucks Are Finite and I’ve None Left

For Patron fans of Who You Gonna Believe, I have some good news: I’m really, really close to dropping the next chapter.

For non-Patron fans and the morbidly curious, I have some bad news: that new chapter is not going to be available to you right away.

There are a lot of reasons for keeping the upcoming chapter Patron-only for now. Mostly, though, it’s because Patrons have always been given early, ad-free access to new content as a thank you for financially supporting me while working on myself and Who You Gonna Believe.

Chapters 1–25 of WYGB, I have decided, are so old now that they will remain free to read. (Also putting them back behind the paywall is tedious, and I don’t feel like doing it.)

Some might call this next installment my Me Too* story. The abuser’s identity, like Rodney’s, is masked by the obfuscation and omission of details. For my sake, not his.

Chapter 26, debuting in September, comes with a content warning for sexual and psychological abuse of a minor. It’s not graphic, but I understand the benefit of avoiding this kind of stuff until you’re ready.

There’s an introspection in memoir writing—mine anyway—that leads to new understanding, and as a writer I’ve had to decide how to handle that. I think the option-weighing is what stymied me for a bit.

Anyhoo…

Fucks are finite, and I’ve none left.

* This movement was founded by Tarana Burke. Please support Girls for Gender Equity.

Who You Gonna Believe? Not a Gaslighter, Bitch!

Who You Gonna Believe? Not a Gaslighter, Bitch!

Have you seen the video for the new Dixie Chicks song Gaslighter? Here, watch.

I’ve been listening to the song on a loop since its premiere yesterday. ON. MY. BIRTHDAY. It was preordained this song drop right now—while I’m running a promo for my serial memoir and still firmly entrenched in the Rodney chapters.               

I don’t consider myself a country music enthusiast, but I’ve been a Dixie Chicks fan since coming of age in a smothering small town while “Wide Open Spaces” topped the charts. Natalie cemented my adoration for the trio in 2003, though, when she took a whole lot of shit for her anti-war, anti-Bush comments at that concert in London.

In addition to placing “Gaslighter” at the top of my feminist anthem playlist, I’m writing it into my will that I want it used in the soundtrack for Who You Gonna Believe when I become famous for dying of brain cancer and they make a movie based on my memoir.

[Singing]
You’re sorry but WHERE’S MY APOLOGY

Damn, that is some fucking relatable-ass shit, but it is also so empowering. I’m just like, get all the 15-year-old girls in a room right fucking now and play them this song so they know what we want them to know: One day a woman WILL be president and the patriarchy is going to have its little excuse-making lips sewn shut with a backstitch. Put a pamphlet in my pocket and pay me what I’m worth, because gaslighters can’t eat the sandwiches NO ONE MAKES FOR THEM.

Sorry. Getting a little carried away.

Of course, the-you-can’t-touch-us-with-your-feminazi-bullshit-because-we’re-in-V-formation aesthetic is glorious too. Taken as a whole, this video reminds me that when my story ends one day, it will not end with me being a victim.

Of anything.

Friendly reminder that my memoir is unlocked for everyone (even Rodney, lolz) the entire month of March. However, if you want to be a rebel and support me JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN, new patrons are always welcome at patreon.com/EmilySuess.

Dixie Chicks Gaslighter Lyrics

Gaslighter, denier
Doin’ anything to get your ass farther
Gaslight, big timer
Repeating all of the mistakes of your father

We moved to California and followed your dreams
I believed the promises you made to me
Swore that night ’till death do us part
But you lie-lie-lie-lie-lied
Hollywood welcomed you with open doors
No matter what they gave you, you still wanted more
Acting all above it when our friends divorced
What a lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
You’re such a-

Gaslighter, denier
Doin’ anything to get your ass farther
Gaslight, big timer
Repeating all of the mistakes of your father
Gaslighter, you broke me
You’re sorry, but where’s my apology?
Gaslighter, you liar

You thought I wouldn’t see it if you put it in my face
Give you all my money, you’ll gladly walk away
You think it’s justifiable, I think it’s pretty cruel
And you know you lie best when you lie to you
‘Cause, boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat
And, boy, that’s exactly why you ain’t comin’ home
Save your tried story for someone else
‘Cause their lie-lie-lie-lie-lies
Look out, you little-

Gaslighter, denier
Doin’ anything to get your ass farther
Gaslight, big timer
Repeating all of the mistakes of your father
Gaslighter, you broke me
You’re sorry, but where’s my apology?
Gaslighter, you liar

You just had to start a fire, had to start a fire
Couldn’t take yourself on a road a little higher
Had to burn it up, had to tear it down
Tried to say I’m crazy
Babe, we know I’m not crazy, that’s you
Gaslighting
You’re a lie-lie-lie-liar
Oh, honey, that’s you
You made your bed and then your bed caught fire
Gaslighter, I’m the mirror
Standin’ right here until you can see how you broke me
Yeah, I’m broken
You’re still sorry, and there’s still no apology

Gaslighter, denier
Doin’ anything to get your ass farther
Gaslight, big timer
Repeating all of the mistakes of your father
Gaslighter, you broke me
You’re sorry, but where’s my apology?
Gaslighter, you liar

Help Me Celebrate My 40th Birthday

Help Me Celebrate My 40th Birthday

I turn 40 Wednesday!

To celebrate, I’m taking my webserial memoir out from behind the paywall (Pay-treon wall?) for the month of March. So, not only can you read all 12 chapters of Who You Gonna Believe through the 31st, BUT you get to read chapter 13 in real time when I publish it at the end of the month!

Scroll down to start reading.

Or bookmark the Table of Contents if you want to read later.

I think turning 40 would be a pretty big deal for me anyway, but it’s monumental reaching this kind of milestone while toting a brain tumor around every day. I’m glad I’m here, and I’m thankful for all the people here with me—both virtually and IRL—and I wanted to give you all something to show my appreciation. Having cancer means there isn’t always a whole lot I can do to give back. Money’s tight, energy is low, and anxiety is high. But that won’t stop me from trying to say thanks.

Whether you’re a long-timer follower of this blog or you’re visiting for the first time, I hope you enjoy!

And of course, I’m so grateful for the support of my patrons who help keep me, this website, and the WYGB project going. If you enjoy reading WYGB this month (completely ad-free, I might add!) please leave a comment thanking these lovely people for making it possible.

Amiee S.
Angela R.
Becky Y.
Bonnie C.
Beth R.
Chris P.
Elizabeth G.
Emily A.
Geoff O.
Heather G.
Heidi D.

Ilene K.
Jeff G.
Jennifer G.
John P.
Judy L.
Karen D.
Kenneth R.
Kimberly C.
Kristin D.
Len B.
Mahesh M.

Melanie S.
Rachael U.
Rick K.
Stephanie A.
Stephanie K.
Susan K.
Susan M.
Tara A.
Tina J.

My Ex-Husband Has to Pay ME $15 to Read His Emails

My Ex-Husband Has to Pay ME $15 to Read His Emails

Someone emailed me Thursday:

What happened with the whole Rodney thing? I mean, not *in* the memoir, but with him reading it. Is he still harassing you?

I replied, but later it occurred to me a formal update on the blog might be appropriate. So here’s where things stand at the moment:

I haven’t seen anything from Rodney since this happened in December. You’ll have to decide whether that’s because he gave up or because I’ve mastered the art of blocking the asshat.

Not only have I blocked every known account of his that I can think to block and blocked him from commenting here, I’ve also set up a filter for his emails. The filter intercepts his messages and auto-replies with this message:

551 4.7.2 Unauthorized email is not accepted due to domain’s FOH policy. c96ock49325875156wad.56 – gtfoh

Messages from you have been flagged by the recipient as low-priority and may not be received. For priority consideration, the administrator at info@emilysuess.com requires a minimum $15 payment.

Proceed Cancel

I have no problem establishing boundaries. In fact, I enjoy thinking up new, creative ways of telling people who drain the joy from my life to fuck off. So a while back I decided to spoof those mailer-daemon thingies you get when your email can’t be sent for some reason. The “FOH policy” and “gtfoh” in that seemingly random string of characters at the beginning of the message are made up, but they are not arbitrary.

Now, I can’t tell you for certain whether Rodney has attempted to contact me and received this message. But I can tell you that he has not paid the $15 fee I charge to let him waste my time.

So, what happens with this system I’ve set up is that Gmail filters email from him, auto-replies, and then places it in the spam folder, which automatically deletes emails after 30 days. And because I only check spam if I’m expecting an email and don’t receive it, it’s possible an email from him got flagged more than 30 days ago and I just never knew about it.

After taking a quick glance at the current state of my spam folder for the purposes of writing this update, what I can confidently tell you is that he hasn’t emailed me in the past 30 days.

So, if you had been wondering why I hadn’t written any more on the subject, now you know. It’s because there wasn’t anything to write.

“But what if he pays the $15?” you might be wondering. If PayPal notifies me of a payment from his account, I might check my spam folder.

With all of that cleared up, a programming note: Chapter 12 of Who You Gonna Believe will be available to patrons on February 29.

Give It Some Consideration

Give It Some Consideration

“Give it some consideration,” he says. At first you think maybe Rodney’s trying to do me a favor by playing up the whole garbage person bit. But then you remember: This is not an act.

After I announced that I’d be sharing Rodney’s emails—but before I got around to publishing Rodney Writes a Ruse—my ex-husband jumped back on my contact page and wrote me again on Wednesday, December 11. Presumably because as a Certifiable Attention Whore™ he was jonesin’ for his next bad publicity fix.

And cripes what a trainwreck his email is. Even people who question my decision to deal with a narcissist by putting his work on display must be having a hard time looking away from this one.

I’m going to take the line-by-line approach again on this for two reasons 1.) repeating the email text in the body of the post makes the content accessible for people using screen readers, and 2.) it worked well for me last time. Once again, Rodney’s words are highlighted with a gray background.

Emily — Like I mentioned in my last message. This is very good writing (the memoir, more precisely). Am I a narcissist for reading it? Yes, in your story I am.  Someone’s got to be the villain, right? All good storytelling has a villain.

Remember in the last episode when he praised me for how well I “showed his scumbaggery” and then I explained that he wasn’t truly accepting his faults? Right off the bat we’ve got him setting up a scenario in which I’ve sensationalized my portrayal of him.

Yes, I am “a self-professed compulsive liar, an unrepentant cheater, and an egomaniacal, manipulative boob” in your story. But I take umbrage with “boob.” I’m much worse. You give me too much credit.

Got whiplash yet? Imagine the pain in the neck you get from living with this shit 24/7 for five long, miserable years. The early part of our relationship did the most damage to me because I was completely ignorant of Rodney’s condition. And I don’t just mean I couldn’t see he had it because the relationship was shiny and new. I mean that at 23 I still had no clue being self-centered reached clinical levels in some people.

Aside from your medical problems, I’m glad you’re still writing.

I’d like to remind everyone that I am not a professional, but those who are say people with Narcissistic Personality Disorder lack the ability to identify with the feelings of others. Raise your hand if you think bringing up my brain cancer this late in the game and in such a dismissively unapologetic manner ought to go in a text book.

But, you know, thank Jesus he’s glad I’m still writing. I suddenly have a reason to live.

And, I hope you unblock me to read your next chapter.

I don’t think I’ll ever hate myself that much, but time will tell.

There are really two advantages: 1. I could write something like this message and my previous one, which gives you more material to work with and gives your readers more reason to hate me, which will give them more reason to read your work. (You don’t want to tell them that, because it’s a propaganda tactic that comes from the research done on compulsive lying in social settings.) 2. Following from (1), you’ll likely increase your following, reach, subscribers, etc. I know you know what happens with more subscribers. Give it some consideration.

I know you know what happens? Give it some consideration? Almost sounds like someone with delusions of grandeur just finished watching The Godfather.

I will never, ever hate my readers and subscribers that much. But it amuses me Rodney thinks he’s so good at this he can manipulate me into manipulating others all while making my platform (a platform I worked very hard to build over the years) susceptible to his treachery.

Despite all the horrible things that make his dysfunction worth academic study, he’s still just a mediocre white guy at his core. Trying to get out of doing the work. I welcome him to build his own platform if he’d like to show us the alternate reality in which he lives. I never considered at the outset that Who You Gonna Believe, a non-fiction webserial with humble beginnings on Patreon, would one day inspire fanfic—how flattering.

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