|May 01 2012|
( this is very long and of a mature nature.. )
I will be 49 in 2 weeks. As I work to make some sense from my past, I am becoming aware how most people only have one or two abusers or traumatic events in their life and they earned their "battle scars". I'm sorry if this post is long.. I am feeling detached enough to vomit it all up, and then I will try to work through bits and pieces as I try to heal, once and for all.
For me, my life of emotional upheaval started from birth pretty much. My father, a serious bull-rider/ alcoholic ( and I was always and will always be my daddy's baby girl ) and my mother, prime candidate for "Passive Aggressive Star of the year" who fought from the time I was born until the day they divorced when I was 6, leaving not only me, but two younger brothers. My mother kept me separated from the only father I needed in my life. I only saw him once after this, until I was 26 yrs old.
She soon became pregnant and then married to my first sexual abuser. Granted he only wanted me to fondle him while he watched tv, it was sexual abuse for a 6 yr old. My mother knew, but failed to admit it. He ended up dying after 18 months of marriage to a brain aneurysm. This step-father left yet another brother.
Once again... we moved to a different city, and into the "house of hell" which today, reminds me of the Amity-ville Horror house. Mom went to school to become a hair dresser, but this lead to alot of late night partying, prescription drug abuse and drinking. Not only that.. but she became very.... umm.. shall we say. accommodating to the local men. I'm not sure if she ever took money, but, how can a single woman, in school full time, make ends meet, especially when she partied every weekend and most weekday nights?
Now, you may be wondering what happened to my brothers and I when she was out having the time of her life. She hired the next door neighbor's son, who was 16 yrs old at the time. For my brothers.. this was great. For me, well, lets just say, this started the year for me to become aware of adult practices. I was around 10 at this time. Every weekend, he'd come into my room after everyone was asleep, and use my body to do his bidding. I feigned sleep. What else was I suppose to do? At first I was scared, but then, well, being so young, and not getting much attention from my mother, at least I meant something to someone. I was always in sleep mode. The only person who knew of this, was my best friend at the time. This, became a key point for me later in my life.
When my mother became aware of his practices, of course, I was to blame. I made it all up and to prove her point, when he babysat after the "outing", I stayed with his mother next door. Problem was, once my mother came home from her adventures, he'd come over to send me home, but my mother never realized, it took him some time to send me home. This went on for some time. I believe I was 12 or so by the time we finally moved away. Also, during this time in the House of hell, every weekend, we were also inundated with prowlers. They would rattle the doorknobs, and tap in windows or even plaster their faces against the window so when you looked out you'd get the beegeezes scared out of you. I soon learned never to look out windows at night.
Sometime, also during this time, I found a nearby neighbor who was into photography. The memories are sketchy, but I do remember him being older, and his studio was in his garage, where his wife was never allowed to go. He had me pose for him on several times but then suddenly, I refused to go see him. I'm not sure why but I feel it was of a sexual abuse issue. Perhaps, as I work through my past, memories will come to the surface.
My grandparents were very important to me during this time. Every summer, I would get to go on a trip with them. Usually for a month or so. Nothing special, camping, fishing, or to visit relatives in the neighboring state. Around the age of 11 or so, my grandmother went to see her daughter, and I was left alone, taking a trip with my grandfather. He would soon become my fourth sexual abuser. During the drive to where ever we were heading, he'd fondle my breasts, telling me it would help them grow larger. ( I am now an H cup, thank you Grandpa ). He had a history of sexually abusing my mother, as well as a cousin of mine who later became pregnant from him. Why my mother let me alone with him to begin with.. who knows.
At the age of 13, good ol' Mom became pregnant once again, and married my 3rd step father. ( oh.. did I forget to add.. she was married for a month, guess she thought she was pregnant then found out she wasn't ). This was a total of 4 fathers. She had another son, which looking back, was a good thing. I'd hate to have a sister have to deal with Mom and her paranoid attitude towards her daughters. She always felt threatened that I was going to take her men from her. Anyway, This marriage lasted until the day she died. Finally, I had some stability.
After they married, we moved yet again. We lived in this new city for about 2 1/2 years, then we up and moved out of state. I was now a junior in high school. Guess I was not to have those memories of close friends and parties and dances. Just before we moved, I realized I wanted to have a career helping the blind. I wanted to train guide dogs for the blind. I wrote to all the schools asking what I needed to do to accomplish this, and they all said, start training now, start showing, and gain experience. I was allowed to start 4-h and a neighbor allowed me to train her cocker spaniel. Just before our move, my mother ended up buying this dog for me. Perhaps to fill the guilt she had for me, I'm not sure, and I will never know.
We moved, and I became obsessed in dogs and everything to do with them. My parents, ( mom and step father ) became a permanent attendee's at the little league baseball games and football games. When I finally went to my first dog show, ( with a few extra dogs in tow ) I came home, walked into the kitchen and my mother looked at me, stating " you didn't win anything, did you? I didn't think you would". Well.. I came home with a Best of Opposite Sex in pugs, a 4th in class with an afghan pup, and a Best of Breed, Best Junior Handler, and 2nd Class in obedience with my cocker spaniel. ( Not to bad since I had never seen a dog show before in my life and actually had to go behind a building to teach my dog how to stand on command ). I was hooked!
My senior year, I campaigned my dog in the shows and learned alot. How to groom him correctly, trained him, ect. We became top junior handlers in our area, earning top cocker spaniel awards in obedience and in Junior showmanship classes. Not once did my parents attend my shows. I had to pay for them, and find rides to and from them.
When I graduated high school, I wanted to move to Wyoming to see my aunt and start my single life. I flew part way, but had to bus into the small town in which my aunt lived in. My mother promised to send my dog to me once I settled down. He would never arrive. She had him put to sleep soon after I left Texas. I never would know why.
In Wyoming, I soon got my first apartment, ( basement studio apartment ) and my first real time job. Not long after this, I met a wonderful person who moved in and we became life long friends. Bobbie was a lot wilder then I ever thought about being and I soon found out what it was like to actually welcome a man to my bed. My first fling, was a drummer for a band that was passing through. I never thought he'd imprint my life in such a way, but to this day, we still have a special song.
Once he moved on, Bobbie introduced me to a man who was going to be my son's father. "L" and I got along great, or so I thought. He was hard working, and protective. I felt safe, wanted and secure. Not long after that, I became pregnant, tho I lost the baby within the first trimester. I then started taking the "pill" as I was not ready to bring in a baby. I wanted to make sure I was stable, married and able to give my child the life I never had. About 2 months had gone by and there was a bad tragedy. My grandmother had married, and on her and her groom's way back home from their honeymoon, they got into a car wreck and he passed away. My mother went to her hospital's bedside, and I went home, to tend to my brothers.
Not long after the trip home, I figured out I was pregnant. In fear of loosing control of my own life, I did not tell anyone. I knew, if my mother found out, she'd take full control of everything.. leaving me without a say so in anything that had to do with my child. She adored babies, and this was to be her first grandbaby. I knew it would end up in a power struggle, one I was not up to loosing. This was my baby, and I wanted to make all the decisions. Lucky for me, when I'm pregnant, I don't gain much weight, or show a pregnant belly. She never suspected. My child's father, "L" soon moved to Arizona, and sent me money to fly to be with him. Our precious boy was born the next day. He was born with immature lungs and spent 9 days in ICU. The doctors thought he had Cystic Fibrosis, but we were lucky. His premature lungs were due to me having undiagnosed Gestational Diabetes, tho I now believe I had full blown diabetes to begin with. Anyway, we lived in a tiny trailer, that hardly had a floor, and was located on a very large pig farm. "L" and I spent 6 months there, with me helping him in the "farrowing" shed, delivering baby pigs. Our son would sleep soundly in his baby stroller. The farrowing sheds were warm from the many heat lamps and the sounds were just content, as the hundreds of babies suckled and played.
We moved to a nice duplex, and things seemed to change. "L" felt more stressed then he had previously, and seemed to drink more, and I was more stressed, now with a new baby. "L" got extremely protective, not allowing me out of his sight to shop by myself, or go to the library alone. One day, we got into a heated fight, and he ended up beating the hell out of me. A friend wanted to send me to the hospital, but I didn't want to go. I did tell him, that if he ever raised a hand to me again, he'd be out on his ass.
I made a call to my mother, and she found him a job on a ranch. It would provide a nice cottage for us to live in, and decent salary, so off we went, driving back to Texas. Once we got there, our child was her center of attention. There was no job, no cottage. There never was.
"L" soon found work, but we had to stay with Mom, as the rent their in Texas was just to much for minimum wage. "L" didn't want me to work, he felt my place was to stay home and take care of our child.
On the 4th of July of that year, our baby boy was almost 9 months old, and we were still living at my mother's house, we had a small gathering out in the front yard. My parents were in the house, watching tv and our son was going down for the night. I wanted to go back and join the gathering but "L" felt I needed to stay in the house. When I made my way to go back outside, he raised his hand to me again, and that was it. I told him to leave then and there. I was NOT going to be beat and go through that hell I saw my mother live in.
He moved out, but a week later, I moved in with him in a roach infested apartment, that several others lived in. It was at this time, I found out he had an STD, and that was the last straw for me. I moved back home. I had no where else to go.
I went to work at a nearby food venue and was happy pretty much tho home life was stressed. My mother nagged constantly at me concerning my son. I could never do the right thing in her eyes, and she had to control everything. If my room, which I shared with my son, wasn't clean by her standards, she'd tear it apart, dumping drawers, flipping the mattresses, ripping clothes our of the closet, you name it, while I was at work. I soon began to feel this stress seep into my work hours and it wasn't long before I had my first "breakdown". Something triggered me and I found myself in the manager's office, crouched down, screaming. Needless to say, I was sent home. I was in fear that this stress was effect my mothering skills so I sought out a counselor. With her help, I did find some child raising skills and parenting tips to make life a bit easier. I also soon found a room to rent.
I moved in with "G". This wonderful lady who had a 9 yr old daughter and two extra rooms. My son had his own room, and mine was across the hall. I had found a job, once again in the dog business that I so desperately wanted to expand, and life was good. My world was my son. I knew, that if I worked hard, I could have a steady career helping others, and provide for my son.
Life had different plans. After a year, "G" decided she needed to move into a smaller home and we had 2 weeks to find another home. My income was still minimum wage, and I found myself on the verge of being on the street with my son. I was NOT going to let that happen. Moving back home was not an option for me either, as I knew what hell it was for me there. So.. I did the only thing I felt I could, for the love of my child.
I put him in foster care. I researched and found a center that would provide him a secure home, that I had total control over, until I got myself into a place that was safe for him. I can not tell you how this broke my heart, but I felt it was the best thing for me to do, for the love of my son.
When my mother found out, she flipped, needless to say, and within a week, talked me into moving back home, with my son. She knew how to push my buttons well. About this time, I found another job that promised more money. I would be learning how to groom dogs, as well as train them in a more advanced sport. I thought, wonderful, another step to filling my career card with experience so I'd be accepted into the guide dog schools.
Life once again became a living hell with Mom. Again.. she ransacked my room if she found anything out of place. She made it a point to belittle me over every nit picky thing she could find. She wanted control of everything, then scream at me how I was an unfit mother. The last straw for me was when she wanted me to come home early from work so she could go play bingo. She was watching my son at the time, and she felt I needed to come home. Again.. my room was ransacked.
My son was about the age of 3 by now, and had a long history of bronchitis and even pneumonia. I didn't have insurance on him for his Dr. visits and since we were living at my mother's home, she had added him onto her insurance. I didn't know about the services that were available for kids. Anyway, I just couldn't take it anymore, and I moved to my bosses place, with the intent on bringing my son, as soon as things died down. Mom went back into her sweet side and made promises and such and with her able to provide insurance for my son's medical needs, and smoothing over any objections, I agreed to let him stay there. I felt I had no other choice, or at least that is what she wanted me to feel. Yes, I did make the final decision, but it was for my son's best interest. Now, looking back, I have some regrets, but, he's grown into a man I am so proud of, and he will never understand the pain it was for me.
I worked my ass off in this grooming salon. I learned.. alot. I also became a victim. The two owners, "M" and "G" were good. Especially "M".. she was almost as good as my mother. I worked so hard there, and was never paid. I worked for room and board, food, and any other items that I was usually not allowed. I was driven tho. I knew by learning this, I could do something with this and make a life to get my son back. I ended up competing in dog shows, events, and grooming contests. I became the first Certified groomer in the large metroplex I lived in. I knew this was going to look great on my resume. Then, I could have my son and we would be happy.
I ended up basically their slave. At the end of our relationship, they tried to ground me.. not letting me attend a grooming competition because, even tho I had broken my wrist and it was in a cast, I had left a snap off of a gate ( I went through the kennel and through a back gate and was on my way to resnap the front gate when they arrived home). Anyway, I moved in with a friend who also had a kennel, and went to work at another grooming place. I worked there for about a year when "M" and "G" talked me into coming back and making me part owner of their new grooming shop. Well.. papers were never signed and after a few years, I also went to work at the local community college to teach dog obedience. "M" felt that since I was now working on my own, ( as well as running her grooming shop) I was going to be responsible for the gas we used in her mini van ( mind you.. 70 miles a day, round trip). I left. For good this time. I went back home. I knew, I couldn't stay there long. I found another groom/training job in a nearby city and soon had my own apartment. The only way I could keep this apartment tho was to work 80 hour weeks. I groomed 6 days and taught some kind of class every evening, then went to shows on the weekend. My reputation was growing. Still.. my goal was to have my son with me.
During this time.. I'd go see him, and cry for hours when I left him. I saw the hurt and pain in his eyes when I had to say good bye and it killed me. My visits grew further apart, I thought it was the best for him. I couldn't bare to see him hurt. This, I regret.
During this time as well.. there were very few men in my life. My life was my career. For almost 10 yrs, I worked hard to get the experience to become a guide dog trainer. One day, I realized, I probably had the experience I so needed and began to research my options. Moving away from my son was not an option, but I did find something.
I went to Michigan to train with a well know group for two weeks. I came home and soon became the regional rep for the state of Texas. I was now training dogs for the disabled, placing them and doing fund raising, along with running a grooming shop and training classes at the store I worked at. I was not home enough to have my son there, as I was now traveling alot, but I could see a light at the end of the tunnel and soon, I prayed.. he and I would be together for good.
It was then, I met "MG". We started dating. Wow.. if this worked out.. then I'd have the perfect home for my son. We dated for a yr and a half. All went great. No issues for me.. and he seemed happy as well. I was able to buy an acre of land and a trailer on it out in the country and could see this working out so well.
"MG" and I got married and from day one, he changed. He had hidden the fact that he was an alcoholic. He knew how I felt about it. I trusted him tho and thought it was just due to the wedding.. well.. no.. it was him. Almost a yr later.. our daughter was born.
My daughter was as precious to me as my son was, tho now I was older, wiser, and knew how I wanted to raise her. I was the ultimate earth mom. She was held close to me 24 hours a day. She was nursed until she was 2 1/2. She was loved. She was cared for. She was precious to me. I became a stay at home mom, for her, as I didn't want what happened to my son, happen to her. Thinking her father would do his duty and provide. That was not going to happen.
My dog career took a nose dive and I struggled. Feeling I had to take care of our daughter, and babysit my husband on his nightly drunken state of mind, my emotions and patience wore thin. Our fights were over stupid stuff when he got drunk. He'd start them.. I stayed away. I tried taking our daughter out to a movie but he soon controlled that. We didn't have enough money. We soon lost my first home.
Things got worse, he worked even less, and my mental health, as well as physical health wore down. One year seeped into 12 years until I could take no more. He had lost the second house.. and now we were living in a small run down trailer. I had began training dogs again but with his drunk binges, I never knew when I could rely on him to watch our daughter or not. I fell apart a second time.. and kicked him out.
This was 3/2007
I got a job at a nearby deli, but had to quit due to the fact that they sold it and the new owners were coming in with new staff. I found a new job and was having issues with health, having to have a week of full bed rest due to an abscessed tooth erupting up into my sinuses. When I went back to work, I was soon fired for not being happy enough and smiling enough. ( a quick note here.. when I was six, on the day of my 1st step father's funeral, I fell and broke my front tooth. It had always been discolored and odd looking even after they repaired it. ). Anyway, I quickly landed a job at a huge vet practice. It did not come soon enough tho, as I lost the house my daughter and I were living in. I had to place all my animals even my show dogs, and our two horses. Back to Mom's house. A month went by and I was given a raise, transferred and promoted. During this time, I was well into the state of depression, and there was mom.. calling me on the phone to get up, telling me to take a shower, telling me when to do my laundry. She controlled what school my daughter went to. If I went out, she wanted to know who with, where we went, what time we would get home, and what our plans were, as well as cell numbers and land line numbers. Here I am.. in my early 40's.. and having a curfew. The volcano of stress was building...
From the time I was 26, my father was very much in my life. I was able to go back and see him several times. My son met him as well as my daughter. My dad was the parent I never had. We spoke almost weekly. I helped me deal with my husband. He helped me train my horses. I was able to use horses to help my daughter in her therapy for severe ADHD. Teaching her to handle her horse, taught her boundaries, and gave her self esteem that she so needed.. it was her escape from her father as well. (once again.. when I lost my last home.. I had to give up the horses as well )
At the end of august, 2007, I got word that my father was missing. We were not sure if he was on his way to the beach where he and his girlfriend had a cabin or what. I went to work, explaining my cell phone was in my pocket and would be staying there, ( as opposed to clinic policy ) and explained why. That saturday, I pulled up to my mother's home, and she was sitting on the step of the entryway. I walked up and she stood up, and my world crashed. My father was found dead, in his apartment. He had been there about a week.
I could not bare to see my one full brother who was still living nearby. He was our father's twin. I spent my days home, in my room, unable to deal with life. Monday, my boss, who had been called that saturday, called wanting to know why I wasn't at work. I replied " umm my father just passed away?? " and her response was.. " And.. so??".. I went to work that wednesday, and found myself fired, a week later, for not being happy enough to do reception work.
Just before I lost my job, my step father started in on me about some bags of clothing and items that I had no where to place. My mother didn't want me getting a storage unit, yet here I was being screamed at, just a few days after finding out my father had died. Then my step father said some words I am not sure I will ever forgive him for. " I don't care who you are mourning for.. get over it!"
I remember putting hands to my face, bending low and just screaming and screaming and screaming. Enough that my son grabbed my daughter and took her to another room. I know wish I had been hospitalized.. but there was nothing wrong with me.. or at least my mother thought so. Granted.. she had been diagnosed with several mental disorders by now.
All of this happened within 6 months of me kicking my husband out to my father passing away.
In the days that followed that.....my memories were in a fog. I needed out of my mothers house. I needed a job. I needed to get my daughter safe and secure.
I was offered a job, at a Domestic Violence Shelter, that wanted to train rescued Labrador Retrievers to be therapists for the survivors of Domestic Violence for alternative lifestylers. Wow.. this was perfect for me. It was a live in situation, and my daughter was welcomed. They also knew about my history and what I had recently gone through.
Off we went. I had done some researching on this place and it sounded wonderful. Little did I know, my hell, just got worse.
*** GRAPHIC: ADULTS ONLY***
I moved out to the compound and found shortly there after it wasn't quite all it was promised.
I soon made the decision to let my daughter live with her father, until I could once again, get my act together. My life was in the extremes now. This was no place for a child.
This was a live in situation, and the director also wanted me to take care of his personal dogs. I knew he was gorean, and he had several "slaves" that lived with him. The facilities were his private home. I moved in, and went to work.. a month later, I begged for his collar. He gave me this song and dance about how a Master takes care of his slaves.. they are one family.. he controls everything so all she has to do is serve him. After the emotional crap I had been through, I needed a break, so I begged for his collar. Alot of promises were made. All, and a lot more were broken. I was a certified Nail technician. He found out, and built me a nail shop, in a strip mall. I worked my ass off in the shop, doing faux finish on the walls, new floor. etc.. two days before we were to open the doors, manicurist hired and everything, I was putting the last of the items out, decorating, etc.. I finally realized.. wow.. my dream was about to come true..
The next day, he tore it all down, blaming me that it cost to much money to do. Now.. when this all started.. we had discussed a small portable shed, made over in the front yard. He went out and rented this old, ugly office space that was a gym.. it needed everything.. walls, water, floor.. you name it.. and we did it.. he went to a building supply store, bought $3000 worth of supplies, and then called the bank the next day, stating his credit card was stolen. Never did pay for the supplies. That was just the kind of person he was. I stayed tho.. being a good slave. I was promised his "family" collar, which meant I had to be under his collar for a yr and a half, then, I had to pass a test. I had to be flogged by 4 different floggers.. at full strength. almost 3 yrs later, he never presented that test.
December, 2009, I was on several drugs that caused me to be sleepy. I was being treated for depression, insomnia.. etc.. He decided that all the sudden, instead of us sleeping in in the morning, we were all getting up at 7 am. Someone came in and tried to wake me up. I didn't respond. I woke up suddenly after a bucket of cold water was dumped on me. I laid there, crying.. sobbing.. as it had sent me back to my childhood, and all I could hear was my mother screaming at me. Next thing I knew, he had grabbed me by the hair, screaming and yelling, and dragged me from the bed. I tried to fight back, out of survival mode, but.. he ended up throwing me into the edge of the open door, yelling to the others to call the police, as I was having a "bi-polar" episode. Police came and threatened to take me to the hospital, and arrest me for domestic violence, as he had a small scratch under his eye. I didn't know I had bruises on my ribs and thigh that was going to last over a month. I was taken to see my counselor the next day. She saw the bruises. The next visit, 2 weeks later, I ended up speaking to an Adult Protective Services agent. I still stayed. I didn't want to ruin the non profit organization they had created.. for domestic violence. I needed to serve.. and.. since I was able to get one of my horses back from a friend. I had no place to take her. so I stayed..
He had also built this animal rescue up and end the end.. without going into detail now, there were 4 of us arrested for cruelty to animals. The charges didn't stick, as the dogs we had, had been feral that the city had dumped on us when we took over their shelter, but the damage was done. My name was in the paper, my career, that I fought so hard for, was gone. He had also allowed the house to be foreclosed on, and in turn.. they confiscated my horse as well as put down all the animals we had in the shelter, including my service dog.
A word here.. I was in a state of major disassociation by this point. I had been diagnosed with bipolar, as well as depression, anxiety and panic attacks. My life was in extremes. My lifestyle had become extreme. Bondage, at this point made me feel secure. Pain, brought a level of euphoria. Knowing I could please a man, gave me the feeling that someone at least cared for me.
He wanted to leave Texas and escape to New Mexico. I flat out told him no, I won't go.. he threatened to call the Serbia? mafia on me if I left him. I knew he had spent time in Austria for dealings with them... I was scared to death. I met a man on a website, and he was gracious enough to offer me a place. I escaped one day.. found myself on a bus to St. Louis.. by this time, all I had was 2 totes, and 2 suitcases. My horse was confiscated when his house was foreclosed on, and he didn't get her out. All of my other items were in storage, that he never paid for.. I lost everything..I ran, to another state, to another collar, to another Master.
During my stay with this next Master, man.. all was fantastic.. and he kept telling me that everything was going great! His wife and he couldn't believe how well I fit into the family.. yadda yadda.. this guy told me.. drilled into me that trust and communication was the most important thing. I did my best to please.
My first night there, he bound me, and then whipped me to show me what a punishment would be like. Then, what I thought was aftercare, he was holding me, and he was playing with me, until the moment I came.. and he took a battery to private parts, and shocked the hell out of me.. claiming that he wanted to make sure I understood that he even controlled if I had an orgasm or not. Needless to say.. trust was an issue, but I thought.. ok.. he's trying to make a point..
This went on for 6 weeks.. then on a Thursday night, I couldn't sleep. I was up all night and 4am Friday morning, he woke up, came in, and started talking to me about me not sleeping. I was on the computer, he was a webmaster, and I was working on a page that he had given me to do and he was upset because I couldn't' sleep. at about 6am, he walked into the bedroom, came out, walked up to me, and unlocked the padlock on my neck, and informed me that there was a bus to Dallas for me. I made a phone call, and my brother bought a ticket to Florida for me.. so at 10am, he dropped me off at the airport. My flight wasn't until 2pm. and now I find myself here in Florida.. trying to heal.. This guy had broken my heart.. I was beginning to fall in love with him.. I think he was upset because I didn't tell him I loved him right away, as he had wanted to bet that I would.. I don't know. he never gave me a reason.. it was just done.. He cut all ties with me.
September, 2010, I was nothing. I had been mentally beaten down, physically abused, and emotionally drained. I felt abandoned, forgotten, used up and worthless. I went to live with my brother, who is in the lifestyle.. but, he had changed. He was no longer the brother who I felt most connected to. He could only see me as a slave.. not his sister. Little could he realize, I just needed some space to get my feet under me.. not someone who I admired tear me down even more. I know he thought he was doing the best he could.. unfortunately.. I wasn't ready for it. I was living in his home for 3 months. During that time, I was criticized for missing a quarter sized spot in the corner of the bathroom while I cleaned, for missing the top trim of a doorway that needed dusting. I spent days isolated in my room, often going without food, even tho I was and am diabetic. By the time I left there 3 months later, I was in even worse shape then I could ever think of. My mother would not let me stay with her, telling me to find a homeless shelter to take me in. I was blessed as friend needed a roommate.
I came back to Texas and stayed with my wonderful dear friend, “W”.. and was able to just heal some. Then, that craving of what security I felt when in the lifestyle collar hit hard. I felt out of control and needed someone to control me. After spending several months speaking to a couple, I moved in with them. Wow.. that lasted all of three weeks. again.. kicked out of the door. He insisted, I was not at fault. He was not ready for a true slave. From there, I found myself asking to sleep on a couch with a well known Fem Dom in the area. I was to be her subby/Switch Husbands girl. Ok.. fine. I will not go into details. I didn't work out. That was a very miserable time. In the heat of summer, here in Texas, with no a/c. My health was threatened and she wanted more and more. By the end of 2 months, tho one month I was away as my mother was ill and passed away, I left.
( May, 2011, my mother became terminal. She had been suffering from COPD as well as mental illness for some time. We had had our discussions about my past but she always denied them. No mother would allow her daughter to be abused as I said.. What a horrible thing to blame her for. She said this so much that I almost started believing it. Perhaps, my own mental illness caused me to imagine things in my head that didn't happen. Then, one thing that just happened very recently, I found my first best friend from elementry school from when I lived in the “House of Hell”. Her first words was she couldn't believe that my mother put me through all of that. She remembered it. She brought the subject up. She validated everything I remembered. Ok.. back to my timeline.. )
By this time, it was the end of June, 2011. I went to my step fathers.. for one night, and was invited out to the home I'm currently in. “N” heard my story.. and I signed a contract that I was not allowed to leave, for 6 months. Not only did this give me time to heal, and get my feet under me, it also gave me a chance to figure out who I was, or better yet.. who I wanted to be.
It is now a year later. My life is so different. I have a man in my life that I am crazy about. I serve him and only him, as much as he wishes. a year ago.. I had 2 totes of clothing to my name. I now have a car, a spinning wheel, a knitting machine ( I love crafty stuff). I am working on my health issues, and have the most wonderful service dog anyone could have. My support system is “N” and the family we live with and most of all.. my Master, owner, best friend..
Now.. I know, I made mistakes in the past. I take full responsibilities with this. I put myself into positions that were not the healthiest. I know this. In my defense, I was dealing with mental and physical issues I was not aware of. Now that I am aware, and working on the issues.. it's amazing how I feel my feet beginning to plant firmly. I am so thankful to those who stood beside me these past few years. Those who listened to me bitch and whine and complain. I learned many lessons. My life now, is truly blessed. I know, with all my being, if I had not had the struggle I went through, I'd not be where I am today.
My regrets.. my kids. First and foremost.. my kids. There is so much pain behind the relationships there that even talking to my daughter means a day of darkness for me. Now, there is threat of her and her dad moving out of state. I pray that I can get past this when it happens. I can't not imagine life without my daughter. My son, hardly talks to me. He has chosen not to have me involved in his life. I pray that one day, he will understand why I made the decisions I did. I hope that I have made it clear to him, that when he's ready, I'm here.. with open arms.
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