health, life, love, mind, psychology, relationships

Dealing with the Broken Heart. My Story of Recovery.

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It is over. I will never see him again. I went through the night hiding under the blanket, shaking with cold, struck with emptiness. The morning started just fine. 20 boy push-ups and lots of water kept my mind away for a little while.

Jim called asking if he can stop by. I confirmed and went into the kitchen to fix an apple pie. Slicing apples and blending egg whites with flour and honey got me busy. I was functioning, I felt almost normal.

Jim brought roses, I cut each stem and placed the flowers into a vase.

Now what?  – he was cold and practical. He kept trying to get me back and hated wasting his time and money with no certainty.

I do not know.

Tell me what you want, and I will do it for you.

You can’t fix my pain, I gotta go through this by myself.

 – Nice cake.

 – You can take it home.

 – Be my mistress.

 – No.

 – You are using me all the time, it is mean and rude.

 – I do not care.

I am ready to give you what you want, just tell me.

 – I want freedom from pain.

He left with the pie, I went shopping. The pain subsided as I was focusing on a birthday present for my girlfriend. The pain almost disappeared when I stopped by to give her a hug and a potted flower. Her house smelled like joy and pizza. There were many people and many presents. I drank water and conversed politely. As we went out to watch the sunset over the water, I started panicking, I knew I would have to leave soon and be by myself again facing the pain through the night.  – “Are you sure you gonna be ok?” – my girlfriend looked concerned as I kept zipping and unzipping pockets in my handbag trying to find the car key. She wanted to help, and she could not, no one could. It was my pain, my cross, my burden.

I watched TV that night and fell asleep. The muscles were sore from too many pushups, the body felt empty.

The text from Jim woke me up – “You live in a crappy area, I can move you into a safer neighborhood, get over your breakup and come back”.

I smiled and stretched in bed. I wished I would get away and stay away from the area where everything reminded me of the past where I was happy and miserable. But I knew the pain would follow me no matter where I go. I knew I gotta deal with my emotions rather than running away from them.

I took one day at a time. The ties that connected me with him kept breaking causing pain sharp, and fierce, and nearly unbearable. My body was withdrawing going through convulsions as days went by.

The realization came later as I was focusing on the needle point excited and entirely involved in cross stitching. The realization that pain has nothing to do with love and feelings. The pain came from the hurt pride, from the failing attempts to control the life of another person, from the merciless possessiveness and the urge to dominate and sponge the person for attention, affection, and endless romance and intimacy.

I put the embroidery aside and closed the eyes. The love was there, it felt wonderful. I pictured him with another woman and smiled. I wanted him happy, he gave me the most wonderful time in my life. He deserved happiness and joy. I went outside and turned my face to the evening chilliness. The ego broke into million teeny-tiny pieces, I was vanishing with the drowning in the water sun. I let go of myself, my wants, my desires, my needs. There was no sense in carrying the burden of my pride and self-esteem any longer. The freedom was there. It has always been there. I have always been free. Everything felt simple and natural. I felt relieved and light; as light as a feather returning to my needle point.

 

.

 

 

 

crazy, health, life, love, mind, relationships

Fairy-Tale with Violence

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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.  

 

 

 

 

crazy, happiness, life, love, mind, psychology, relationships, sex

Reflecting on Love

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I love f*cking you, – I put the emphasis on love and f*cking, I held his gaze, feeling all dizzy and happy at the same time.

I love f*cking you,  –  He had to present at a medical conference in North Carolina. He was bored and freezing and wanted me there. A miserable economy flight, a rental vehicle, and yellowed bed sheets in a cheap hotel.  I was shipped like a package. He was greedy, I was in love, I had fun, I did not care.

I love f*cking you, – early cold morning, watching mountains through a dirty window of a local coffee shop, clutching a hot mug with frozen fingers. He was finishing breakfast, busy and focused on the stock charts in his iPhone.

  – The room is booked till the end of this week. You can stay here if you like, – rainy day and foggy mountains, too cold for hiking, too wet for horseback riding. He had to leave for the airport, the cab was waiting. International flight, cancer conference in Zurich, wife and kids in California.  – This is for groceries, gas, and shopping. Buy something warm, I do not want you sick, – I smiled as he was taking cash out of his wallet. I was about to return to the room and get some sleep on the bedlinen that still had his smell.

 – Good luck with your pathology report. Switzerland is nice, you will like it, Greg.

I love f*cking you.  – Every time he left, I never knew if he will ever be back. I learned to live here-and-now; this prevented me from redundant illusions and sufferings, this kept me going, this saved me from thinking too much.

 – Bye Vixen, – he signed the bill after carefully studying it. He never tipped. He had no regard for people in general, and for servers in particular, – We have chemistry, I want to see you next week. Have a safe flight back home.

– Bye Greg. I love f*cking you.

– That does not sound romantic, but I love you anyways, – A quick kiss and a tight hug. He left. I kept smiling.

For the first time in eight long years I heard his I love you. I was neither surprised nor shocked leaving the coffee shop. I was not ready to hope or expect anything from him. I had no desire to create any illusions, all I wanted was to return to the hotel and get some sleep.        

crazy, happiness, kinky, life, love, mind, psychology, relationships, sex

Pride, BDSM, Sub

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You can’t destroy me unless you take my pride, take it away, and I will have nothing.

This got me pensive. What is pride? – I had no answer. I closed my eyes trying to imagine what it feels like to have pride and thought about Jim – endless planes, yachts, and houses; narcissism and power, inescapable excellence and unavoidable success.

I gave him a call, I was curious. – Do you have pride?

Don’t you want to say ‘hi’? – his voice was bitter and pathetic

I want to know your thoughts on pride

 – Why does it even matter now? We are not even together.

 – Did I hurt your pride?

 – What do you think?

Speaking to him was hard, I hung up, I still had feelings. His pride was the size of his 14 thousand square feet home, I could not deal with it, I left.

Early morning in bed, focusing on my body in search of what google defined as pride -“a feeling of being good and worthy”. I could not find or feel anything.

Take away my pride, and I will have nothing”, – I had nothing. No regrets no sorrow.

I was a sub in relations. I was giving in myself completely, melting, dissolving, relinquishing all my powers and control. I felt empty, non-existent, unable to identify myself with anyone or anything, surrendering my body, my ego, my pride, my self-worth, my values, my beliefs.

I was a sub, going with a flow, being quiet when asked, speaking when allowed, serving in bed and in the kitchen, being available to the needs of my master 24/7.

I was a sub. The pride was crushed, I was capable of sensing and perceiving the world freely without hysterical attempts to hold on to my self-identity. I could be whatever my master wanted me to be, I could switch the personalities like undies. I could flip from a slave to a master, attaining the lost control, going as far as my master wanted me to go.

Does not it bother you that he takes control over your life? It is manipulation and abuse, – my girlfriends could not grasp what it feels like to live outside the fixed self-identity, they were shocked, I was free, I had no pride, I did not care.

Jim was in his office when I came in later that day.

Please buy me an apartment in Orlando.

He slowly moved his gaze from the laptop, dark eyes and relentless calmness. – Why Orlando?

The energy of the big city, I want to feel it through my skin.

I want to feel you.

 – We broke up, it is over

 – And you really think I am stupid enough to keep investing in you?

 – I believe in miracles. It never hurts to ask.

 – Come back, and we will see.

No.

 – Than go home and let me work.

His secretary knocked, I let her in. She was carrying a huge fruit basket, I helped her put it on the desk and took an apple. I was ready to leave.

You asked me about my pride, Vixen, – Jim’s voice stopped me at the door. I turned around, I was curious. – I have none.

 – Me too, Jim, I am a sub.

 – I know. We match, we could do good together.

 – Buy me an apartment.

 – Take the fruit basket home.  

The fruits were yummy, I ate them later on the beach smelling the ocean and listening to the seagulls. I had no pride, no identity, nothing. I did not exist, I felt happy.

love

Being loyal, Greg, Honesty

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–          Lying is a huge deal breaker, VixenGreg leaned towards me. I moved closer. Snuggling with him on the carpet was delightful. He was as warm as a big German Shepherd.

–          Where did this come from? – I was surprised at his attempts to start a conversation. Busy, focused, and introverted, he rarely shared anything with me. Our relationship was very physical, we conversed through touch and skin, verbal communication was very uncommon.

–          If you lie, I won’t be with you

–          I won’t lie

–          I am just saying, I am loyal, and expect it from you.

–          I am loyal, – I leaned on him and closed my eyes.  People need illusions that the world runs according to their expectations. I kept giving Greg the illusion of loyalty; it made him happy, he kept coming back, it made me happy.

I never got to realize what is so attractive about loyalty that people are ready to separate, divorce, or even become violent with each other after they realize that they are not the only ones in their partner’s life. We are not unique, people can be substituted, it is not a big deal, it is the way things work in this world.

I will say whatever Greg wants to hear to support the fallacy that he is the only man I care for in my life. Crushing this illusion would be painful to him, and I do not want it. When you love you want to make sure that he or she feels good. I love Greg. I want him happy and stress-free, he will never know that my heart is capable of having feelings for other people. He does not need to know.

–          What is going on between you and Jim?

–          Nothing, – I knew Jim would never tell the truth, he kept his profile very low; plus admitting to the fact that he is around a girl like me could harm his spotless reputation.

–          Did you break up with him?

–          Yes.

–          Good.

That’s it, end of discussion. He opened up for a moment to get the confirmation that I am still his possession. Once he got it, he shut down almost immediately. I felt his relief as he was crawling back into his shell. His mind was phenomenal – copious publications, spectacular career in otolaryngology, recent promotion to the CEO position, he was genius, simply genius.

We maintained the eye-contact having sex on his leather loveseat. I had my legs on his shoulders, he was very affectionate, I was totally surrendering to him. He reached orgasm and turned on the TV. I started picking up the clothes from the carpet.

–          Are you loyal, Vixen?

I flinched feeling his gaze on my back and slowly turned around. He was staring at me intensely without smiling. Our eyes met, and for the first time I sensed his need to have me in his life. I was finally invited into his inner world carefully hidden behind the silence of his introversion.

–          Yes, Greg, – I am only loyal to myself, but he does not need to know. He felt very naïve and vulnerable, and I did not want to hurt his feelings.