MamaCat on the loose permanently, or, granny has some issues.

by dianabwilde | May 13, 2025 | MamaCat on the Loose, Actors Life, DogsLife, How to Golden Girl

Well. Here’s the unfortunate and dramatic letter I never thought I’d have to write. But what do you do when you had to flee studio, home, and garden for your own safety, armed only with $200 in cash and an aging Beagle, in a 2009 Kia?

I originally published this on my “Buy Me A Coffee” page for supporters of “Granny Has A Podcast,” just four short days ago. In that time, so many people have reached out to help. And for this I am profoundly grateful. I kind of wanted my social media presence to be pristine, free of impurities like admitting that my twenty-year relationship was harmful to me, and that this sixteen-year-old marriage was going to have to end.

But I’m an artist. Voice actor, stage actor, screen actor; podcaster, media creator; honesty is my business. You don’t get good at acting by masking or covering the truth, you get good at it by revealing the truth. And such is life. So here’s the truth.

You may have noticed that there hasn’t been a podcast episode since August of 2024. You may or may not have wondered, what’s holding Diana Wilde back? You may have noticed that there hasn’t been much from me on the socials. Nor have I attended any VO conferences since One Voice 2024.

 Narcissistic abuse has entered the chat.

According to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, “Abuse doesn’t discriminate against age — and an unsettling number of older Americans are in abusive relationships that either begin in or persist into later life.” And “There are lots of reasons people don’t report abuse in their later years of life. Retirement and disability often render elderly individuals financially unstable [italics mine], and they may fear losing health care benefits or falling into poverty or homelessness. If they do rely on their partner for caretaking and support they may have fewer options after leaving.”

And there it is, cats and kittens and all who otherwise identify.

He was my sole support, my only next of kin, and my torturer. And I have to divorce him. Let’s hope to Gawd he’s not following this blog. He doesn’t know where I am so let’s keep it that way for a while, ok?

I’m homeless. And I’m broke. And I’m basically juggling credit cards while waiting for my next $1k social security check to come. (Editor’s note: you cannot live on a $1k/month social security check.)

It didn’t happen overnight. It’s been devolving for years. And with the help of an excellent therapist, I was able to identify what has been happening. The patterns don’t lie. The wife usually self-gaslights and doesn’t take her own pain seriously. Then one day… she does. I’m not going to go into a litany of his sins here; I just want you to know this: admitting that HusbandCat is not good for me, and that he is harming me, was the most painful thing I have ever had to do.

And then there was one last, intolerable, inexplicable rage-out last month. Over nothing. And my great big strong 66-year-old husband first blocked me on Instagram (like a teenager), unfriended me on Facebook (like a teenager), AND CHANGED HIS MARITAL STATUS FOR THE WEEKEND FROM “MARRIED” TO “SEPARATED”. Like an asshole. His family, all our mutuals, and his entire music fanbase (lots of ladies there) could see that for 48 hours he was “Separated” instead of “Married”. *

Three days later I was gone with no destination.

Well, sort of a destination. I have a temporary hiding place with friends. It won’t do for long, as you’ve had hotel rooms bigger than their apartment. So I’m bouncing between there and low-dough lodgings and other friends. I’m basically couch-surfing at 67, with my dog. It’s not going to work out in the long run without help.

Tonight finds MamaCat in a hotel room in a small city in an undisclosed location, asking you for that help. I was brought up to feel shame when asking for help. But I got over that when I realized that my partner’s abuse is accelerating. Women in emergency rooms tell other women, “listen to your panic, it’s telling you something.” The rapid deterioration of my husband’s mental health was showing EVERY sign of sending me, eventually, to an emergency department.

When I packed up the 16-year-old car, in a blue panic, I did manage to grab my mic, interfaces, cables, and laptop. Someone has generously donated a travel booth**and someone else has donated a shock mount & mic stand. There’s help on the way from NAVA & another source prominent in our community**, but it’s not going to be enough.

I can’t work a regular full-time job, and you can’t rent an apartment all by yourself without one. I can go back to work part-time, if I can come up with a place to live. I can work remotely, if I can be inside with my computer and my new travel rig. But you can’t live in the car with your dog AND go to a job like a normal citizen. Well, maybe YOU can. I can’t.

While I am spending enormous amounts of time pursuing all the resources which exist, so far the only thing I can get qualified for is one of those warehouse shelters, where I can have a cot, one bag, and my dog at night, and hit the bricks in the morning for days on the streets. The cuts to the social services in this country are obscene. I can’t get full support as a senior, as an abuse survivor, or as an autistic woman. Knowing that I represent millions in similar positions doesn’t make things easier to bear.

Society is basically telling me that I have no intrinsic value, other than to remain in the home as an abused wife and take what’s coming to me. Disgusting. With respect, f** that sh*t.

So I am asking, dear reader, with all the humility and fragility, can you help? Because I’m surfing the edges, about to fall through the cracks, and running out of metaphors. Also, the dog needs dental work. This is my least favorite episode of “The Golden Girls,” ever.

 Meow, darlings. 💔

And so there is the prologue. Here is the current status. I’m in a Union town and the rebuilding has begun. If you can help, please and thank you very much. If you have helped, thank you so much from the bottom of my noise floor. And if all you can send is good vibes — guess what, I accept those, too, with gratitude.

“Granny Has A Podcast” will be back. And in the meantime, I’m also available for your voiceover and production needs. MamaCat’s doing this.

[Meow of Ferocity 😼]

https://buymeacoffee.com/grannyhasaa

*screenshot on request

**names on request