Recently, I was traumatized by former President Donald Trump, and it wasn’t the first time. My son, Marine LCpl Benjamin Whetstone Schmidt, a proud scout sniper, was killed in Afghanistan on October 6, 2011, almost 12 years ago, becoming a war hero and breaking our hearts. Benjamin’s family members are now part of a group no one wants to be in — Gold Star Families. During World War I, families of fallen war heroes began wearing black armbands with a gold star on them, hanging banners and flags with a gold star in their windows and yards, and ever since, family members of fallen heroes have been referred to as a Gold Star Family. One of the loveliest things about being a Gold Star Mother is the warm embrace from so many from all across America. We receive cards, coins, blankets, medals, banners, flags, and more, all from private citizens who never met us but who care. Most of the American public respects and honors what we have been through and seems to understand our devastating loss and the sacrifice it is, not only for us but for the friends and soldiers themselves. The loving support and continued honoring acts we receive over the years help our hearts. Kindness helps.

And then, for the first time in anyone’s memory, a dark cloud descends on those of us who sacrificed. And it arrived in the form of the former President, Mr. Trump. People tend to report widely the crazy things this man says. Most I can brush off. But every few months, Mr. Trump is quoted saying denigrating things about America’s precious heroes who lost their lives and U.S. service members who were wounded or captured. This is from a man who, after his divorce from his former wife, Ivana, saw his three young children once a week and never took care of them himself. This has never happened before by a United States President, past or present. In fact, it’s been unimaginable. Since the rumors and stories about things Mr. Trump says have been leaked, my heart gets ripped open repeatedly. I can’t unhear it, and each time, I am propelled backward to my original pain and rage. I have met my son’s buddies who survived, all disabled in some way, some amputees, deaf, limping, gut pain, PTSD, and more deeply thoughtful, incredible men you will…

The quickest way for anyone to get zero cooperation from a woman is to call her a bitch. After that vile word is spoken, she will take pleasure in sticking an imaginary knife into whoever’s heart and twisting it with glee. Even if you have a heart attack five minutes after calling her a bitch and are now wallowing on the floor, she will sit and floss her teeth, scroll the Internet, and order a few things from Amazon before she’ll pick up the phone and call 911. I have a story that goes along with this phenomenon …

In my first, very short marriage, my husband had given me a 1-karat diamond that had been in his family for years. When we decided to divorce, I always planned to give it back. I had absolutely no feelings about that diamond or the ring it was sitting in and just waited for him to ask for it. Mind you, he had run off in the night from Arkansas to Florida with his receptionist, but my love was so dead by then that I didn’t really care. The call came, and he said, “Kathy wants the ring, but I told her you’re probably too big of a bitch to send it back.” Damn. You know what? You’re right. Forty years later, I still have that diamond, which is now a pendant I rarely wear.

Why am I writing about people and the word bitch? When you blog as much as I do, you learn how to find subjects that have a demand, things that readers are looking to find and want to read about. Writing is no fun if no one reads your content, and though I often choose to write about what I enjoy and am interested in, occasionally, I peek at what readers are looking for. So, I scrolled through a list of topics in my niche and found a subject that got my attention — what to do about a bitchy wife. I thought, “Who is asking this question?” I visualized the readers asking this, and the visual wasn’t complementary. Several other things came to mind from reading that phrase — on one level, I couldn’t believe it and wanted to think that, as a culture, we were past that, and on another level, I’m pretty sure we aren’t. Female clients often tell me their partner calls them the B-word, and my response is always the same, “That’s unacceptable.” Why is it unacceptable? Because no one gets what they want when they call another person a…