abuse, broken heart, control, dating, relations, feelings, depression, divorce, escort, sugar, violence

Fairy-Tale with Violence

beautiful-1854284_1920

She had a noble face with high cheekbones and pale complexion. Dark eyes and long black hair in contrast to ideally clean white skin gave that magical look that enchanted everyone. Girls fought for her friendship, guys throw houses, businesses, and families at her feet. She had memberships at almost every elite country club and ski resort. She confidently carried her exceptional status turning the nose up at others who were unlucky enough to work daily to pay the bills.

Once a month she wore professional make up early in the morning. “I had to see my make-up artist prior leaving my house, need to cover up the bruises”, – a light shrug of sculptured shoulders and a stunning laughter. Her glowing skin looked almost snow white under layers of concealers and a make-up foundation.

First two days are the worst for the black eye, hard to hide even for my visagiste, and she is a real professional; I wear dark glasses, – on such days she wore them day and night. Everyone followed the trend after seeing her in brandy sunnies at one of private sports event.  – I had to accompany my husband right after we argued. Sunnies are my saviors when make-up does not help.   – Her voice was melodious; the manners were sweet and slightly condescending.

And you were not even allowed to stay home and heal after he beat the crap out of you,  – she shuddered at my curiosity, my response was too vulgar and direct for her upper-class mindset.

Technically I could, but he would have taken his hooker instead, and I …., – she paused to sip some cappuccino, – I am fighting to save the family. We have kids.

– Good luck,  – I could feel her pain behind thick layers of make-up and seemingly nonchalant IT-girl demeanor.

Her lifestyle was a dream for every struggling girl forced to work to raise kids. She neither killed herself 40 hours a week nor spent sleepless nights when the children got sick. Her husband provided enough, she had money.

I feel safe home. We are rarely by ourselves. Our kids, sitters, cleaners, his mom and friends…. I have enough time and space to do what I want without him around.

 – How do you guys find time to fight?

 – Well, – she took a deep breath and tucked shiny locks of hair behind the ears, – two weeks ago he found out I cheated on him with his friend and got furious.   

But you’ve been in bruises for over 3 years now…

 – And?  – her voice suddenly lost the usual lazy carelessness, – my life is noone’s business. We have a happy marriage, a very happy marriage.    

Her gestures were suggestive of “everything is fine, my life is a life-long dream, unachievable for losers like you”. The whole world was at her feet, her life was a perfect fairy-tale for every poor girl from a low-income community.  The abusive part of the happy-ending story was thoroughly camouflage behind tons of make-up and prescribed anti-depressants and mood-stabilizers.

She went through long and desperate years of jumping from penis to penis prior getting the marital proposal from her husband. The door into the world of signature clubs and luxury resorts opened, she acquired careless demeanor and refined manners sinking her veneer teeth and well-manicured claws into the lifestyle she had been craving for all her life. Domestic violence was never an issue; she would die for the right to keep the place in the niche of wealth and prestige.

Her husband finally left and froze her bank accounts. She was kicked out of the house with nothing; his attorneys filed for the full custody of their children.

 – I do not know what to do, he took everything, I do not even have a vehicle, – her voice was usually calm when she called me from the local crisis center where she was brought by the police after overdosing on her sleep medications.

Do you believe in God? – it was the only response that came to my mind.

I actually do, – her laughter was sweet-sounding. I knew she was feeling better.

Her husband was there with five bodyguards when I came to visit her in the hospital.

How is she doing, is she ok?  – he was worried, I assured him that she was fine. For the first time in my life I met someone surrounded by hired protection services. One of guys looked hot, I gave him a smile and blushed when he smiled back.

She was discharged that day, beautifully pale and sensuously fragile like a China doll, her back was straight, her head was up. I saw him helping her into the car, they left quietly and quickly.

The divorce was cancelled, she went to Switzerland for 6 months to treat the diagnosed depression.

When she came back she was fresh and rested.

You look really good,  – I was glad to see her happy.

I am not sure if I told you, – her smile was stunning, her postures were magnetic, –  I found a new make-up girl, and she does miracles. I finally have someone who knows how to mask all my bruises.  

 

 

 

 

anxiety, control, crazy, dating, relations, feelings, dominance, fears, feelings, panic, power, psycho, Psychopath, sugar

Perfect Guy

fear

He instigated fear. The contrast between his calm and pleasant demeanor and my feelings of terror every time I saw him was unfathomable. Well-educated, intelligent, nicely smelling, fit, and smiling, he did not look like a fairy tale monster. Nevertheless, his presence brought shivers up and down my spine. My friends thought I was cuckoo, their “girl, you have a screw loose, go and eat something or talk to a therapist” made me guilty. His excessive concern about my wellbeing brought about shame and remorse; he loved, he cared, and I kept rejecting him quietly panicking when he was around.

I could not loudly demonstrate my concerns. He never raised his voice, but I was fearful to answer back and disagree. Once I got brave; I took a deep breath, and looking straight into his eyes, I gasped out “I am afraid of you”. He quietly stood up and went into the kitchen. I heard him using the water and ice dispenser in his refrigerator, he came back three minutes later with a glass of ice-cold orange juice and a sparklingly bleached smile.

You think too much, silly, – he smiled watching me gulp the juice, I felt stupid.

His friends were polite and intelligent as well. They wore comfy cashmere sweaters and designer pants and discussed marketing dynamics and sales strategies. They lived in safe neighborhoods, played golf and went boating on weekends. Their women were skinny, classy, and quiet. No one ever was rude or disrespectful, they smiled, always said hello and goodbye. I always smiled back responding to their greetings and farewells with the same pleasant demeanor, but deep in my heart I knew talking beyond “the dinner is tasty, I have enjoyed your company” was not acceptable.

One day I lost my job and gave him a call; my unemployment did not kick in timely, and I needed help to pay the bills. He did not answer, I left him a voicemail prior going to bed. A loud banging sound woke me up at around midnight. I opened the front door and got hit by December coldness. He was standing on the porch, I could not see his face, but I felt the anger through the freezing darkness.

Are you ok? – I forced a smile and waved him in.

He did not move, he had a bottle in his hand, I got surprised, drinking was not about him, he was into healthy lifestyle and daily exercising.

Are you ok? – I repeated shivering as the coldness was crawling under my PJs.

You disappointed me, – the voice was muffled, I stepped back shuddering at the smell of alcohol. – I wasted all my time with you. You got everything gifts, shoes, cruises, but you want more. Now you decided to quit your job and sponge me off. You are like everyone else.

He kept talking slurring words and getting angrier. I kept standing at the doorstep frozen with fear and ice-cold weather.  Suddenly he punched the wall right next to me, I screamed and rushed inside. The front door slammed behind my back. I heard the screech of his car as he took off.

I brew green tea and took a warm bath prior going to sleep. When he called me the next morning, he was sweetly polite as usual.

You scared me last night, – I was expecting clarification and apology.

I felt used, and I overreacted

– But, I was scared, – I still believed he would dismiss my fears with humor and a fine dining invitation.

You will deal with this my love, when shall we meet again?

 – I need to be by myself.

He kept stopping by with flowers and fruit. Every time I tried to discuss that night I was given Swiss chocolate and new clothes.

Don’t you see, I am afraid of you. – He laughed, gently stroking my hair while switching the TV channels.

My friends kept calling me cuckoo. They were jealous. He was always attentive, courteous, and intelligent, he was smart, well-educated, and as perfect as a smiley guy from my favorite family yogurt commercial. I felt guilty and stupid, I panicked for nothing.

 

anxiety, broken heart, control, dating, relations, feelings, depression, feelings, happiness, health, mind, reality, sugar

Depression, Anxiety, Self-Acceptance and Unwillingness to Change

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I am learning to accept myself the way I am. I see my therapist twice a week. I know better now.

  • I am unwilling to change, – I am beautiful the way I am. A few extra pounds mean a sexy curvy body, drinking is a way of relaxation, cleaning, cooking, and attending to males’ needs sound like relentless abuse and male privilege. You gotta realize I won’t allow you to take advantage of me any longer.

 

  • You should accept me for who I am, – I am not bending to anyone’s needs, just take it or leave it. You have problems? You are not a little boy, I am not your mommy, find ways to deal with your stress.

 

  • You cannot judge me, you have no idea what I went through – you should be empathetic, respectful, and caring, you should be here for me when I need it; otherwise, I have nothing to do with you.

 

  • You gotta earn the privilege of being with me. You are the luckiest person in the world since I am here for you, love me the way I am. Like I previously said, do not try to change anything, it is not going to happen, – if you prefer a sex-appealing calorie-counting chick who substitutes dinners for gym workouts, do it, I will get over it, I deserve the real man.

 

  • You gotta change diapers, stay up all night, and spend weekends grocery shopping, cooking and cleaning. Relationship is partnership, don’t you know? And yes, this is your kid too, learn to combine your 60-hour week work schedule with being the father. You can’t? I am done with being exploited, I am leaving.

 

  • I am strong and independent, – your attempt to turn me into an underweight stay-home sperm dumpster is abuse and domestic violence. My therapist told me this, like I said, I see her twice a week.

 

  • Are you horny? Seriously? I am not an object, I deserve to be valued for my beautiful heart and soul, – watching porn at night and looking at other women is not acceptable. I am not swallowing sperm and disrespect. I am leaving now, you will regret.

 

  • The day you got me a new vacuum cleaner and a multifunctional blender was the final drop in the bucket. I am not putting up with your power and control issues any longer. My attorney will contact you as regards child support and alimony.

 

  • It is really hard to find a really nice guy, but I will I know. While looking for the prince charming, I will keep mixing alcohol with anti-depressants and anxiolytics. I will keep soothing my depression and anxiety with prime rib, tears, and cheesecake around my slightly obese, slightly depressive, and slightly anxious girlfriends.

 

Like I stated before, I gotta accept myself the way I am, I am not willing to change, I see my therapist twice a week, I know better now.

bi-polar, control, crazy, fears, feelings, happiness, health, life, mind, obsession, panic, personalities, power, psycho, reality

Ignore Your Mind Games, Just Live

masks

 – I am tired of your games, – Jim was angry, I was quietly snacking on a pine apple.

Split personality, getting through my days under endlessly changing masks; altering the thought process based on the day of the week, on the frequency of sugar intake, and on the degree of the body dehydration. That was my way of living.

 – You are bi-polar and seriously psychotic, don’t you see? – Jim looked pissed. I kept licking the pine-apple juice off my fingers.

Unlike myself, Jim’s perception of the reality was consistent. His mindset was consistently locked in the world of profit and loss statements, dull numbers, and endless money-making. He was unable to grasp any diversion from the linear buying-cheap-selling-high approach.-

If you hate chaos, why are you still with me?

 – I like you, Vixen. I can be your sugar daddy, all I ask is your consistency, – He obviously loved what he called “craziness” and “psychosis”, – you need therapy and medication.

 – My therapist told me what you did to me when we met is rape.

 – Change your therapist, she is an idiot.

He was insistent on my mental diagnosis and on my inability to survive without his pervasive interference in my life.  – I am the most normal person you have ever met, Vixen. You have no idea how lucky you are that I am around. You are a very poor judge of character; people that you choose are really weird.

 – I know. – With time, I learned how to deal with my mind games; I knew that my mind gets me down throwing me into deadly hopelessness every Monday morning, every weekend without Greg, every failed job interview, every time my expectations do not match the reality.

The mind could spin relentlessly, sinking me in despair. I knew when panic attacks will return, I knew exactly what they will be about. I knew the first signs of mania, I knew when and how I will be kicked out of euphoria straight into the gloom and doom of the depressive episode.

At first, I was searching for the triggers to catch, to prevent, to cope, then I got bored and stopped wasting my time on digging into the crap of childhood traumas and heart-breaking love stories. I got tired of reacting to endless mind dramas, the mind repertoire was limited, dull, and nauseously primitive. I just kept doing what needed to be done without reacting to the hysteria of the tiny tape-recorder in my head.

I knew I was cuckoo, I did not care.

Jim was cuckoo too, he was stuck in solely one reality that his mind kept creating for him throughout his life. Fixated on success, unable to share, and mercilessly using others, he continued suffering every time his obsession with power and control broke against common sense. He kept picking up the tiny pieces of his illusions of strength and dominance, trying to clue them together and resume control, repeating the same break-and-repair insanity cycle over and over again.

 – Vixen, how many personalities do you have? I counted at least six.   

 – Millions or billions, whatever the mind creates, but I do not bother….

 – Why? – dark eyes, black hair, and Italian background, he was hot and charismatic, at least this is how my mind wanted me to perceive him.

 – I do not care because I do not exist, you do not exist either. And it really does not matter what the mind will want us to see and to feel as long as we use the mind as a tool, and we do not allow it to use us instead.

 

affection, bi-polar, broken heart, control, crazy, dating, relations, feelings, disgust, dominance, fears, feelings, happiness, intimacy, life, love, obsession, power, psycho, Psychopath, reality, relations, sex, submission, sugar

Evil Behind the Mask

evil

What does the evil look like? Is it someone leather-faced, smelling like decayed teeth and low-income household?

Dave was handsome, highly educated, and wealthy; warm, smiley and polite.

Intimacy with him felt like heaven, he was gentle, affectionate, and caring. “I hug you, and you smile, one day I will see you smiling all the time. It will make me happy.”  He had a great body, nicely smelling bed-linen, huge master bedroom, and high-quality home sound system.

 – What kind of music does my Vixen want?

 – Can we do Mozart?

 – You need something relaxing, what about meditation music?

 – Ok, – I shrugged my shoulders and went into the bathroom, being intimate with him felt relaxing. Sex was not merely joyful or fun, it was spectacular, phenomenal, magical, fantastic.

 – I need to take you shopping, my Vixen needs new dresses.

 – Maybe next time? I gotta pick up my kid from his daycare.

 – No, we will go now, I will choose, since I am paying. Your facial expression…. It has changed, that’s funny…

He had a great taste, the outfit he bought looked awesome. I was thankful and quiet. He did not want me to speak unless he expected answers to his questions.

Talking makes you anxious, dear, you get into your shitty moods that make you unhappy. I want you happy, this is my goal, princess, to make you happy.

 – Yeah, but I just wanted

 – Shh … silly, – he covered my mouth with his hand, – When I speak, you listen, ok?

Physical closeness was awesome, simply awesome, he was very expressive and emotional; I was touched, I kept breaking into tears, he liked it. – There is nothing wrong about showing your feelings, Vixen. You are certainly allowed to do it around me. You gotta read good books, spiritual literature. It will help you grow and become a better person. You can’t be a sugar baby all your life.

I found Seroquel and an empty Tequila bottle on one of his book shelves behind Luke Rhinehart and Teachings of the Buddha. – I have zero tolerance for alcohol. I can’t be around someone who drinks, Dave.

 – One of my friends left the bottle here, he stopped by yesterday, we meditated.

 – Are you taking anti-psychotic meds with alcohol?

 – I took half a pill, the first time in ten years, I stopped drinking long time ago. You gotta relax and stop your crazy thinking, I feel bad when I see you suffering, luv.

 – Why did you take it?

 – My ex stopped by, she is horrible, the most negative person in the world, she tried to commit suicide several times when we were together. I was anxious all night after that, the pill helped me sleep.

 – I thought it is your ex-girlfriend who tried to kill herself.

 – My ex-wife was also crazy, she is a very miserable person, she needs help. I had back luck with women in the past. You are the angel Vixen, I am blessed to have you in my life.

Sex was mind-blowing, I left his house feeling the happiest person in the world that night. He constantly wanted me around. He paid for my son’s sitter and for the hours I missed work to be with him. – You are working too much, it makes no sense, even my cleaners do better financially, honey. You need to change your career. I do not want my princess to stress twenty-four hours a day. It makes me sad to watch you suffer.   

 – I will end up losing my job if I continue taking time off. I can’t afford it, I need to feed my son.

 – I will take care of you both. Trust me, you will never be homeless and hungry.

 – I can take vacation later, maybe a couple of months from now?

 – Now, – suddenly his smile froze, – I will take care of everything:  flights, hotels, food, shopping… I want you to start packing now. Your son can go with us, I love kids.

 – I can’t.

 – Yes, you can, – he grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking. My head hit the cupboard door. I screamed, he quickly released the grip and gave me a hug. – Are you ok my dear?

I saw blood on the light-wood cupboard door and concern in his dark eyes as he was gently checking my head.– Just a tiny scratch, nothing serious, love.

 – I may need to see a doctor. I hit my temple.    

 – They will rip you off and do nothing. I owned several medical practices, people there are morons. You should not trust them. I will take care of you.

 – I need to go.

 – You need to stop talking now. – The sudden change in his voice was frightening.

That afternoon was the first time I did not leave his house mesmerized by his charm and the way he used his penis. The evil was there caring and smiling, carefully drying my skin with a soft towel after a bath and holding hands while sleeping. The evil was there, slowly but surely cuffing me to the 2-million dollar home with substance abuse and mental health issues. The evil was there gently destroying the identity through manipulation and control slowly leading others to suicidal ideation. The evil had the face of an upper class guy with refined manners, hard cock, and fat banking accounts.

It took time to finally see the dirty truth inside the fancy packaging box.