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Suzanne Wangler archive at The Diner [at] Penda’s Realm - Cookies - the coin of Penda’s Realm.
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Archive for the 'Suzanne Wangler' Category

An open letter and apology

It takes balls the size of small country to admit when you’re wrong. Which is why it practically never gets done anymore - there are lots of cowards who believe that hiding behind false e-mails and making up amazing stories gets them close to something like absolution.

I, for example, can be a catty bitch. No, pick yourself off the floor - it’s true. I routinely rip into people, not because I don’t have a life, but because it’s human nature to do so. No, it’s not nice, but I wasn’t put here to be nice. Like I said before, I’m not apologising for what I said, I’m not taking it back, because that’s insincere. I meant what I said. However I can give a nod to people who can admit when they’ve mis-stepped.

As we all know, a fellow Royal Oaker got herself into some trouble a few months back. Because we’re all human (and poor) we tend to relish a bit in the misfortunes of those who seem to have it better than we do. I’m not apologizing, just stating a fact.

Since then, there has been something of a war raging on this little blog between the Commoners and the FOS (Friends of Suzanne). It’s been fun - only because the Commoners weren’t necessarily being mean-spirited, but the FOS skewed a little ignorant. No, I don’t believe “Helen” is a real Friend, but a child’s classmate or a random, though well-meaning, nutjob. I have spent a lot of time deleting her addresses and phone numbers from the comments because that’s not cool - “Jo Ellen” I’m looking in your direction.

This probably won’t be the end of it, but we’ve finally heard from Ms Wangler herself (I’m assuming - I could be wrong and it could be an inmate in Jackson with a creative writing assignment due. The only edits I’ve made are the adding of white space between paragraphs.

Offered without snarky commentary (because it’s completely unwarranted):

An open letter and apology.

I am my own worst enemy. Divorce, severe depression and a 1/2 bottle of wine is not a good combination. It is not an excuse for my actions. My heart is broken. I’ve let down my family, my friends, the community, and most importantly, my four children. I am crying as I write this because my daughter just left for school this morning. She was so upset. She has been looking at this website for postings. We are extremely close. All my children are. I told her from the beginning I didn’t approve of her searching the web for upsetting information.

This is what she said…�Mom, I read Penda last night and this woman Jo Ellen said some really mean things about you. Are they true?� I told her partially. I know the women who made the post (an investigative reporting background helps.)

She is a very good friend of mine and a wonderful mother. She had every right to write what she did. A little embellished, but thats not the point. I did owe her money. $200 for cleaning my home. (not 2,000). I went to her home last week to confront her, to say it was O.K. Our children are friends and I missed our friendship. I also gave her the money I owed her.

Just so you know, I am writing this to set the record straight for once and for all. (I have declined TV and newspaper and radio interviews, etc for “my� side of the “TV Reporter royally screws up� saga. Who should really care anyways–no one really knew who I was. I was a peon reporter. All people care about is Carmen, Devin, Emery or Diana Lewis. Not me.

But none the less my children didn’t need to see me on TV one more time just so I could speak out. I am writing now because they are hurting. I am hurting. We are all trying to heal. Who is at fault. Me. Who escapes the drama of divorce, moving back to Royal Oak, living 10 doors down from their former husband and new wife, and going into business with his sister. Me. What happened? This year (I am finally in therapy)is the first year I have “greived� the loss of my marriage. The breaking up of our family. I crashed. And boy did I ever.If you truly know me, you know I am a giver in life. I am not a taker. What I did at Westborn market was simple when you analyze it. I crossed the line. Pushed the cart too far ( I never left the patio to set the record straight.) But I was wrong. It was a cry for help. Was I thinking? No. Just wallowing in my pain and not thinking about anything but myself. I did not feel in control of my life. I blame me. I own this. I am paying for this. I accept this. But what it all boils down to is this: There are so many things wrong with our world… Starvation, Hunger, Poverty. And now my children are being devastated over and over again by the postings. Penda, its not your fault. I applaud your hard work and courage and drive and passion to do this site. Your husband was always one of my favorites. But my children. I screwed up, and to have them hurt is like having a knife pierced into your heart. I love them so much. Do you realize how hard it is to lay down at night-and think of what I put my children through? For the rest of their lives they will remember this. I scarred them…I’ve devastated them. I have let them down. But if you know me I am a fighter. This is a hiccup in life. A bad one. I will not let this incident define me. Our family will mend, and wind up stronger and closer than ever. I will make sure of it. But what I won’t tolerate is this: sitting back and let others wonder who I am. If you know me I am a pleaser in life. I want everyone to feel good. I take on too many things just to please everyone and wind up running out of steam…

I am not a “whore�. That is a joke. I can look down at my two hands and count the men I have been intimate with my entire life. My old roommate embellished her story. She was mad, and wanted to lash out. But she is right. I owed her money from a deposit she paid when I rented out my basement after the divorce. What hurts is that the children and I embraced her as family. They miss her. So do I. And if she reads this please call me. I am slowly getting back up on my feet. I will pay you what I owe plus interest.

After the divorce, I was so out of it–I would go for months not answering the phone or opening my mail. Depression. This is all not an excuse. Just fact. Unpaid bills, lawsuits for non-payment, you name it-it happened to me. I don’t want this to sound like a “poor old me story� I just want to set the record straighht. Up until the divorce my life was pretty good. I had done things in life I was so proud of. Mostly our 4 children. John is not to blame here. He cheated. He may or may not have been sharing his life with his secretary for years..I’ll never know the truth, but I do know this. He had every right to. I was so caught up on my ego. Being on TV. He wanted me home with the children. I should have listened. For the record, I do think he has found his soulmate in his new wife. From what I understand she is wonderful. Kind, giving, and caring to my children. But I am from the old school. Italian. Catholic. Things for me are black and white for me. It’s hard to change but I am trying. (I could never fathom in my wildest dreams laying down with a married man. With 4 children. knowing what this will do to them. It is so hard to forgive. But I am trying). Either you cross the line or you don’t. Either you cheat or you don’t. I grew up in a home where my father told my mother daily how much he loved her. How lucky he was to have her. They cuddled on the couch at night, danced in the kitchen and kissed in the hallway. (It wasn’t all niverna. They had some pretty mean fights too just like all couples). But they were caring and loving and giving parents while my 2 older brothers and younger sister were growing up..and still to this day. So much love. They were married for 36 years. Then my father died. That is why I cannot bring myself to even look at or even talk to John and his wife. Did I act crazy at times? Yes. I was off the hook. I couldn’t cope. Now I am getting better. I only say positive things about John and his wife (now) or I don’t say anything at all.

To set the record straight. I do not live in an empty mansion on Vinsetta Blvd. It is filled with something priceless..lots of love. For the record, I did not build this home, design it, or do anything with it. Just bought it because it was close to Shrine, the childrens father and our Church. If it were me I’d live in a ranch home with 4 children and one bathroom and be happy, just like it was in my childhood. I bit off more than I could chew with this home–but I am doing better financially now. It is in my mother’s name. It’s our investment. Her retirement and mine.
For the record again, I never lost custody of my children. John and I have joint custody. The arrangement is to split the week between parents.

Desite attempts for both of us to fight in court for full custody of our children…all the therapists, and lawyers and judges and experts caame to the same conclusion. John loves his children and they love him. Suzanne loves her children and they love her. Our children know all of this. Every word I write. We are all that close. For the record John is a wonderful father. A cheating husband though (sorry)..and we both love our children. I know I am rambling, but these are just some of the thoughts swirling in my head. I wanted to do this for myself, and for my kids. Especially my oldest daughter. I can only imagine what is going through her head at school right now. Anyway, please do not respond to this. I do not want the drama to continue. Every day is a better day and we are all so lucky. We should all be writing about that.

Sincerely,
Suzanne Wangler.

Thank you, Suzanne. Your therapist and your children should be very proud of you.

The fact is, everyone here knows you. There are no “peon-reporters” working in Detroit (except maybe Derricke Dennis). We’re too local and you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting one. This is the bane of small town Michigan - we’re happy when you make it, and we immediately hate you for making it. It’s really a sort of compliment.


Insanity in a nutshell

If you are offended by jokes made about stupid people who end up dead, count to 30 and move on. You being offended is the last thing I care about. Really.
MontiLee Stormer

My name is MontiLee (aka Penda), I am a 35 year-old Writer from Royal Oak, MI.
E-Mail Me!

I are a writer

Novels in Progress:
Isle of Shadows, in collaboration with Rob Callahan
The Cat Dragged Inn
The Caretaker
Never

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Bound #1

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