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The second step back was what happened one week later. During the entire time I was pregnant and some time prior he briefly “befriended” a woman considerably younger than him. One night she was over they played video games for hours and she started to feel motion sick.
He let her sleep in his our bed. I spent a night of torture suffering and struggling on my own in a basement. Aborting his child after he impregnated me.
She got a bit dizzy and he had her sleep in my spot. Oh, and he told me he rubbed her back as she fell asleep.
#1 on the list
At this very moment one year ago, I was in labour.
On the evening of November 8 -9, 2016 he came in me without my permission. In his defense I believe it was an accident. I had, at that time, miscalculated my cycle, and thought I was not in a red zone. I was incorrect. Weeks later I felt a flutter, did the usual stuff to confirm, and found out for sure. Pregnant.
I already had the appointment booked when I told him; most of me knew this was the right decision, but a little part of me hoped he’d try to talk me out of it. In retrospect it was absolutely the right decision for several reasons and if I hadn’t had that appointment booked when I told him, I’m confident he would have punched me in the stomach.
He didn’t talk me out of it, and it was made clear to me that this was something I had to handle alone. He came to the hospital with me for the preliminary appointment and thought he had done me a great service. He advised that I was not welcome at his (once our) home despite the fact that he had put me in the predicament. If I wanted him to join me, I would have to pay for a hotel. As I was spending every dime I had at the time on him - feeding him, clothing him, entertaining him, I had my cards maxed and couldn’t afford it. He was very charitable with his next option - he’d go to sleep, but he’d unblock me so I could call him and keep his phone on.
So I did it alone.
What I endured was a trauma I may never get over. Some women have unpleasant period sensations. I went through 16 hours of labour mixed with a bad reaction to the medication. Vomit, diarrhea, sweating, chills, shakes and delirium, all alone in my parents basement, trying to be quiet to not wake them in the very early morning of Christmas Eve.
I have plenty of terrible options to choose from, but this was hands down, the absolute worst, horrible thing that has ever happened to me.
And he made me do it alone. What kind of man would abandon a woman like that?
This was the first time the veil got pulled back for me and I saw a glimpse of clarity through the fog. This was the first time I thought about my life critically in years. I thought about what I wanted in life and what I needed to get there. I felt strong - such an unusual feeling - like I could endure anything.
And then I thought about what I didn’t want to endure anymore, and what I no longer needed in my life. A whole bunch of uncomfortable questions emerged.
This was the first step back.
Lighthearted healing - a first
*My friend and I get into my car *
Me: “Oh, I guess I don’t need this anymore” *takes down post-it note pinned to ceiling fabric of car and crumples it.*
Friend: “What was it?”
Me: “He wanted me to leave myself a message to read if I was ever feeling happy or accomplished.”
Friend: “... what does it say?”
Me: “ ‘[His name] hurts’ ”
Friend: “Whaaaaat!?” *laughter ensues*
Me: *sheepish silence followed by (awful) rendition of REM* “Everyyy body huuuuuuurrrts.... sooooometimme”
Me and my friend: *laughlaughlaugh*
Gaslighting - one from the vault - edited
I told him waaaaay back in our early days that I was attracted to women.
This was when we were teenagers and he managed to hang on to a group of friends - I suspect the copious amount of alcohol consumed among other mood enhancing essentials tended to keep things light and fun.
Within this group of friends were two women in a relationship together. Some time after I had told him about my attraction he pulled me aside.
He told me that he had overheard these two women talking and they thought I was good-looking. This didn’t really generate a reaction from me; they were in a relationship, I was in a separate relationship, and there wasn’t history, mutual attraction or chemistry. As far as I was concerned they were commenting on the drapes.
He rolled his eyes and spelled it out for me, because clearly I was too stupid to figure it out. He told me that they would probably proposition me and if I said no that they would attack me. Possibly even rape me.
I was shocked. And frightened. He told me most of the lesbians he knew were aggressive like this. He said that if they even suspected I was anything but straight, they’d never stop bothering me.
He knew these people better than I did, and as a teenager emerging from Catholic school I was not acquainted with many out lesbians to base my experience on. Plus he was my boyfriend, and was always looking out for my best interests. What reason did I have not to believe him?
Fourteen years later, I can tell you that this story is total bullshit. I doubt he even overhead them commenting on me.
They never ever gave me even an inkling that their interests were anything other than platonic, and we all spent a significant amount of time together. Furthermore I have heard nothing from any other source about them being aggressive, predatory, or violent.
And yet I was always on guard when they were around (which was frequently) because of what he’d told me.
WHY WOULD HE CONTINUE TO BRING ME TO THESE GATHERINGS IN THE FIRST PLACE IF HE THOUGHT THERE WAS A RISK THAT I MAY BE ASSAULTED?!
This event, ridiculous as it may sound, was a major player in the prolonged repression of my sexuality. And an excellent way to keep me off balance and uncomfortable in public, while simultaneously ruling out those he saw as his competition.
Three birds, one stone.
An Ode to Truth - the missing piece of my heart.
One of the most horrible things he ever made me do was excommunicate one of my nearest and dearest friends. I love her, and considered her one of my soul sisters. I feel ashamed of a great many things; this may be the top as I have not yet been able to even discuss it with my other friends.
The story that I have available to me is this:
In June of 2016, she asked me point blank if he’d ever hit me. In a moment of clarity, mania, whatever you want to call it, I was honest. After all, he kept telling me over and over I should always be honest.
In a moment of stupidity, I told him that I had told her. I don’t completely remember what he said to me at this time as my brain fogged it up and I no longer have that phone to review the texts.
The gist was that I was a stupid cunt who was trying to shift the blame for my actions to him and that I had just sealed my coffin shut. He told me that he called her ( and I have no confirmation that this is true) during which time he says she was rude to him (something along the lines of “Don’t call me! Don’t ever fucking call me!”) and that this was my problem to fix.
Why was I continuing to smear his reputation and make him look like the bad guy? What was so wrong with my brain that I could not take responsibility for my actions? The usual chorus of I’m useless, slutty, stupid, etc ensued… You get the picture.
He insisted that I recant. I asked him how this fit into being honest all the time. Exasperated he told me there are certain things you just don’t say; that this would be something we could fix after I had made myself into a “normal” human being.
I tried to recant. She, being a reasonable human being, would not accept the alternative version of events I presented. Nor the excuses I provided for him. Nor my demand that she support me in my decision to be with him. She is a bold, brave, headstrong and fierce woman - I have always admired these qualities in her.
Knowing this, he said I had only 1 option: He called her a bitch. He told me her boyfriend would eventually leave her and cheat on her because she is unreasonable. She was going to kill everything around her with her toxicity.
What he meant was that she was dangerous to his position as my lord and master because he could not bend her to his will.
So. Months later, MONTHS later (November, as a matter of record) after he’d harassed me about it incessantly and told me the my dallying was evidence that I didn’t love him, I sent her a horrible email.
In it, I accuse her of not being supportive or having my interests at heart. I tell her that anyone who does not accept him, doesn’t accept me, and that I could not call her my friend anymore. I am accusing and defensive and abusive. I’m fucking awful.
I wanted to die when I sent that email. Yet I sent it anyways. She never responded. Who could blame her.
I miss her. And while I think there are a number of relationships that can be repaired, I don’t think I could ever really make this one right again.
After my abortion, I was in really rough shape. I told him that I didn’t think I could have sex for while. He responded with this.
My response is humiliating. He made me come over at 2am and offer myself up. I did.
I’ve been struggling. He left me without a personality and scrutinizing each thought in my head. I don’t know who I am, and I have no faith in my abilities.
I keep trying to pull myself together, but some days it feels like there’s not much to salvage.
One I’ll never get back.
He made me miss the wedding reception of one of my best friends. He told me weddings were for hook ups, and I just wanted to go to get back to my “old ways.”
Here’s the real reason: He didn’t like that she, a white woman, married black man. This aspect of him could be a whole series of posts on its own, but we’ll keep it simple for now.
This is making me sick even to put into words.
My friend’s husband’s family is, of course, also black, and my ex was particularly intimidated at the prospect of me dressed up and looking pretty while in the presence of black men.
Because he thought once you go... no, I’m not going to finish that sentence. My brain can only handle so much stupid in one day.
When you have that one friend with 3D printer and your dad knows how obsessed you are with Critical Role and the Legend of Vox Machina.
Especially with Percy.
Yeah, I know this one is black.
Now I just have to find a way how to make Percy’s coat.
The mask I already have. Well, it’s my brothers actually but I’m going to “steal” it for a while.
I’m always impressed by how much you can take. Playing with your ass is always pure pleasure for me. Your whimpers always make me harder.
We will lay out all the toys and talk about them. Then we will start with the first toy. We tend to get carried away. Going further down whatever rabbit hole is in front of us. So there will be a time limit on each toy so we are sure to get through them all. Then we will decide on our favorites and spend more time going deeper down our favorite rabbit holes.
Dante: Aphmau, you're like a sister to me. :)
The List: A step sister you mean. ;)
The Whole Fandom: D: