✶ THE STATISTICAL FUCKING ANOMALY ✶
the most fucked up part??
this should have never fucking happened.
—
yo.
we didn’t stumble
into some tragically
expected divorce narrative.
this wasn’t just “men are trash”
or “he cheated” or “love is hard.”
this was the—statistical outlier of fucking hell.
a fucking actuarial impossibility
unless someone
stacked the fucking deck.
girlies—
this wasn’t probable.
this wasn’t fucking standard.
this wasn’t even a worst-case divorce.
this was
corporate-sponsored,
precisely fucking calculated abuse.
a stochastic fucking event.
a black swan with coke dust
on its fucking wings.
and the wildest shit is?
i didn’t even miss a red flag.
babe,
i was rational.
vigilant.
fucking loyal.
i cleaned houses to keep the lights on,
i documented everything,
i advocated for fucking safety,
and i still got played
like a fucking prop
because the institutional calculus was:
“she’s broke,
postpartum,
and too traumatized
to fight the fuck back.”
lol.
oopsies.
y’all picked the wrong bitch.
and now
they get to explain to a judge
how they statistically manufactured
a “mentorship program”
that ends in a
DV survivor’s lawsuit
and a financial rep
named in a timeline of fucking
felony-level exploitation.
like nah,
this wasn’t “just bad luck.”
this was
deliberate systemic negligence
colliding with our exact fucking vulnerabilities
to create
a case fucking study
in how institutions cause
motherfucking violence.
—
run it.
aka the case of how a military husband
with no record turned into a domestic violence cokehead
under your mentorship “program”
aka the shit that statistically should never have fucking happened
★ part i: not the fucking destination
this wasn’t supposed to be the story.
he was supposed to have a job.
stay mostly sober.
get into the goddamn army reserves,
lock in that $10k enlistment bonus,
that VA health insurance,
and eventually transfer
the fucking GI Bill to me
or our kid.
we had the plan.
we had the fucking paperwork.
babe,
i was cleaning houses with
a fucking fetus inside me
while he worked.
i fronted every fee for that career:
NIPR,
fingerprinting,
training,
licensing,
gas,
meals,
fucking travel.
you handed him
a cubicle and a “motivator”
and next thing i know
he’s getting cokehead blowjobs
in my fucking car???
while i was cleaning toilets
trying to make sure
our utilities fucking cleared???
nah,
THE FUCK?
and the most shitty part?
this outcome wasn’t probable.
this was the goddamn actuarial anomaly.
a statistical black swan waddling through a war crime.
you don’t accidentally stack
this many failures
on top of a fucking pregnant woman
unless the system is
designed to fucking collapse on her.
★ part ii: the math ain’t mathin unless you rigged it
let’s run the numbers:
what are the odds
that a husband—
→ no criminal record
→ no history of DV
→ in active recovery
→ trying to enlist in the fucking military
spirals into an
unverified fucking addiction,
financial fraud,
strangulation,
and potentially a
highly embarrassing—
multi-tier cubicle affair???
within 5 months????
of working
for one specific financial firm?
what are the odds…
that during this descent,
his coworker—
also his assigned fiduciary rep—
becomes his plug,
his payroll,
and his fucking handler
while i get erased
from my own life insurance policies??
lmfao.
and blocked from
every fucking financial conversation i funded?
what are the odds…
that the same firm
allows this unlicensed,
non-producing man
to be physically supervised
five days a week
by a female “mentor”
who seemingly resents
her own fucking reflection,
while offering him
no accountability,
no income,
and unlimited emotional access
to multiple women
with fucking stimulant power?
you think
this was just “bad luck?”
this was an enterprise-wide fuck-up.
a full-blown stochastic catastrophe
only possible
if the internal controls
were off
and
the enablers were
on fucking payroll.
part iii: the coke fairy clause
goblin wasn’t just unethical.
she was the engine of his fucking spiral.
a Series 6-holding,
trust fund-having,
emotionally-malformed wreck
who got assigned
to my family while
texting my fucking husband,
sending him money,
stalking my pregnant ass on instagram,
and then fucking ghostwriting
my postpartum financial plan
like it wasn’t
conflict-of-interest
fucking shitshow.
—
bro.
math it up—
she had the party money.
he had the addiction.
i had the domestic funding
and a vulnerable fucking fetus.
and y’all??
y’all had the
fucking audacity
to act like none of it overlapped.
bitch, please.
wake the fuck up.
they didn’t “win.”
they built a fucking felony case.
and now?
parallel civil???
8 fucking defendants—
babe,
goblin bought a front-row seat
for fucking everyone—
to the motherfucking deposition room
and possibly
a securities charge or five???
sick.
—
★ part iv: this was not an accident. this was a fucking event.
this wasn’t “he cheated.”
this wasn’t “relationships are hard.”
this wasn’t “you should’ve seen the fucking signs.”
nah—
this was a stochastic fucking event.
a one-in-a-million breakdown
that only occurs
when every safeguard
fucking fails simultaneously
and the people tasked
with protecting you???
are seemingly??
yep—
looks like sad-ass,
fully grown
cubicle trolls
fucking your husband??
on lunch breaks??
and babe—
blocking your IRA transfer—
while you’re in the goddamn hospital
and they’re pushing life policies.
hello.
HELLO.
this wasn’t “inevitable.”
this was absolutely fucking engineered.
from the off-channel securities comms
to the conflict-of-interest assignments
to the retaliatory fucking silence
once i finally caught on.
y’all built the storm.
and now you want credit
for surviving it?
no bitch.
you handed him the fucking lighter,
and now i’m filing
the motherfucking arson report.
—
★ part v: conclusion of facts and fuckery
before your office?
he was sober.
he was trying.
he was flawed, but not violent.
not bankrupt.
not completely fucking broken.
you took that chance from him.
forever.
took that timeline,
the whole pregnancy—
him fucked up
while our kid was born,
the tainted bitch
who held her???
fucking all of it.
you took
a married
recovering alcoholic,
2x combat vet—
with no fucking felonies
and turned him
into a fucking violent,
addicted,
policyless liability
by incentivizing proximity to power,
removing fucking oversight,
and assigning every single
point of control
to all
the wrong,
overly desperate
fucking women.
—
and now you get
to explain it.
to me.
to the court.
to your top corporate trolls.
to your fucking god.
sweetie,
they’re out here like—
“as a mutual company,
people are our fucking DNA.
we don't have shareholders,
so instead of reporting to wall street,
we give our policyowners governance rights”
…
…
…omg
what???
?????
baby.
no.
jesus christ.
just stop.
pay attention—
you’re full of shit.
and this ain’t
“independent contractor”
and yo,
i’m also
fairly fucking confident,
this shit’s a straight pyramid scheme
by legal fucking standards??
shit just ain’t seen a judge yet.
tragic.
lmfao.
so listen.
i’m not the warning—
i’m the nuclear fucking lawsuit.
and y’all?
y’all are the motherfuck stars.
