So I have been avoiding writing this, mainly because there is a lot of it, but also because I don’t think I am going to like seeing it in written form – having to endure it was bad enough, but writing and reading it with a more objective eye is not a pleasant thing for me.
All right, enough stalling…
So things came to a head a little less then three years ago (9/08 -10/08). I had a computer fall on my foot at work more then three years before that (6/05), and I had been collecting workmen’s comp for two of those years (from 6/05 thru 6/07). The third I had lost my claim (unjustly, seeing how my foot is still screwed up and will be for the rest of my life). Even though I had been looking for a job that I could do at home, I had found none and money was beyond tight. I had started to make ends meat by using a credit card (yeah yeah, I know, not good), but soon that was going to max out. I know, why didn’t I just tell him about the money problems? I was terrified to, that’s why. He can be beyond mean and nasty and vile when he wants to, and I was trying to avoid it.
Well, as you can guess, I did have to finally put everything out there. And just as I thought, he was beyond mad. He changed his direct deposit to go into his personal account; I had to now gather each and every bill and prove to him what I need to pay the bills. If I had bills that were online only (no paper bill delivered), then I had to print them up for him. He would then go over everything with a fine tooth comb and decide if he was going to transfer the monies need to pay said bills. (there was one month where I couldn’t find the gas bill, and even though I had even payments set up and it was always the same, since I didn’t have the bill, he wouldn’t give me the money to pay it). This was only the beginning.
My grocery money had been cut over half to $50.00 a week (this was suppose to feed the three of us and two cats); he had taken my bank card and credit cards and cut them up (I usually paid for groceries and gas with my bank card); he went into my purse and took all my car keys and the key to the mail box; I was not allowed out of the house without him – he drove me to the grocery store; I was not allowed to take personal calls (he would stand over me if I did and interrogate me about who it was afterward).
He also started to rev up his verbal and emotional abuse to me (he had been doing this for a very long time before this, but he was taking it to a whole new level now). There wasn’t one thing I could do right – from laundry, to dishes to cleaning the house, to making the bed. He had been quite venomous with his attacks on me, and they kept escalating. It seemed his motto was “go for the pain, not the kill” (many times I wished he would just go for the kill and get it over with, in all sincerity). And his rules for doing said chores changed from day to day, so even though I thought I had done things to his satisfactory, it never was. I was so terrified whenever he was around – and I had daily panic attacks every day around 5:00 pm. He was going to be barreling through the door in 45 minutes, and I had to make a mad dash around the place to make sure everything was done.
I was constantly told that I wasn’t worth anything and I was useless, and why couldn’t I do the simplest of tasks. And of course I was forever being told how much of an idiot I was, and he said it with such hatred in his voice – true hatred and disgust. I prayed that I would die every night. I would have ended it right there for me if it weren’t for my youngest son. I couldn’t leave him alone and unprotected with this monster.
Was he ever physically violent? Well, he had punched my son in the chest once, to which I informed him that if he ever, EVER hit him again, I was going to call the cops on him. (it was a scary thing to watch; I saw the anger in T grow and build and then saw it explode on my son). Since then he hasn’t touched him, but he had a tendency to put him in the corner for over an hour several times, as well as the usual verbal and emotional abuse.
And as for me, well he had cracked me across the side of my head only once – never before then, never after then. But yeah, my logical side tells me once is once too much, and that it can happen again, and far worse. My irrational, distorted side tells me that as long as I don’t screw up, he won’t (bad game of Russian roulette, I know).
I also smoked. Yeah yeah, it’s bad for me, blah blah blah, I know, but it helped with my nerves, calmed me down. But of course that had to end – he had informed me that I was no longer allowed to smoke so poof – I had to quit cold turkey (it was not a pretty sight, let me tell you)…and yet another step in the process of controlling every aspect of my dismal existence. Also he had decided that coffee was too expensive, and I wasn’t worth the price, so I was no longer allowed that (I put milk in my coffee, and that was another expense that I wasn’t worthy of).
Then he finally gave me the ultimatum – I had two weeks to get a job, or he was kicking me out of the house. I was frantic, scouring the internet for something that I could do at home (as much as he wanted me to get a job, he liked me being home – I could do all the “womanly” chores, and plus I wouldn’t have any type of social activity).
And then I found it – a job that let me work at home, set my own hours, and had promised good money. I had gotten a job a PSO (that’s a phone sex operator). One that specialized in the AB/DL fetish, though was not restricted to that alone. I IM’d T and told him I got a job – gave him the name and the link. He couldn’t argue – he had given me an ultimatum and I complied. He just couldn’t see me talking about sex all day (boy, was he wrong, lol. Of course the subject of sex is another whole can of worms for another post I think; we’ll see). Now it wasn’t like he didn’t want me to do that type of work, he is pretty kinky himself, so that type of work didn’t bother him.
I think it was around here that I had started cutting myself, though I can’t be sure – it might have been before I got the job. I started with my fore arm, I had tried to hide it from T, but he eventually saw. Being the clueless fellow that he is, he just thought it was the cats scratching me (a bit too deep for cat scratches, but like I said, clueless). When I started cutting on my upper arm, he said, you can’t tell me that was cats. I simply told him no, I never said it was. And when he asked what they were, I told him the truth – that I did it and it was a way of coping with the inner pain. He never said anything. What could he say? He knew he was cruel to me – he did it on purpose. As he said, passive aggressive behavior was his “thing” (no lie – he said it like he was proud of it and it was a very conscience thing on his part. So when I say he went out of his way to hurt me, he most definitely did).
I was doing what I had to in order to survive. I was rolling coins from the coin tub to help pay for extra groceries. I had a spare key to the car that he didn’t know about so I would run to the 24 hour grocery store when he was asleep. (I also had a spare key to the mail box that he didn’t know about). I couldn’t use my car because the battery was dead and had a radiator leak, and of course he would not pay for such an expense – it was only my car and not worth the expense (I wasn’t going anywhere so what was the point?).
Now I should mention at this point that I had two cats; cats that he did not like because I gave them love and attention and they reciprocated; cats that he wanted to get rid of, but I have vehemently had said that I wasn’t going to get rid of another animal (another issue of ours); cats that cost money by eating and pooping.
Then came that fateful date – the day in which I told him that I needed money to pay a tax bill. He seized the opportunity and told me that I needed to get rid of the cats if I wanted the money. That if we lost the house to auction because of an unpaid property tax bill, then we were threw (yeah yeah, I should have cut my losses then), and I had to get rid of them that very day. What could I do? The bill was beyond over due and it needed to be taken care of immediately. I had to agree.
I was crying hysterically, my son was crying hysterically (this all happen before he went to school in the morning). He was so upset that he was brought down to the guidance counselor’s office. There, one of the teachers said she would take one of the cats and pick her up after school – one cat down, one to go. The other cat was a stray kitten we brought in (T had actually caught him, if you can believe it – the irony). He was never neutered or declawed, so I came up with the idea of just opening up the door and letting him go that way. (that way I might be able to still see him). I had made a little shelter for him, and put food and water out for him there.
But that was it – the last straw. I had chatted with my boss, and asked her if there was any way to split my check, and she said yes! I needed to put away money if I was ever going to have the option of getting away. What ever love, be it warped as it was, was dead. The key to the mailbox came in handy for this. I didn’t have an account of my own, so she sent my separate check through the mail. So I would have to go down to the mail boxes after it was delivered, but before he came home to get it.
By this time I was allowed to go to the grocery store on my own, but I had a time limit (an hour and a half), and I had to show him the receipt each time (which is kinda redundant because I only had the cash he gave me for groceries). I would use the opportunity to cash the check through the drive through that was open on Saturdays. But to open an account, I needed $100.00 and go during the day and during the week. The garage had once put some stuff in the radiator, and it stopped leaking. So with my newly found personal income, I got the same stuff; we have a battery charger, so I charged the dead battery. I now had a way to open an account during the day when he wasn’t home, and so I did. I had a ray of hope. As long as I split the groceries so I had a receipt that said only 50 bucks I was ok. I now had a way to pay for cat food for my wayward cat that was living in the back yard.
He was still being a real prick; at Christmas he wouldn’t get a Christmas tree (being the crafty person that I am, I actually made a four foot one out of wire fencing, green garland and decorated it – it came out really good! So much so that he said we were to use it the next year, which we did).
At this time I will mention that refusal to give him a blow job was not an option. The consequences lasted for weeks, and were not pleasant. Now he rarely would have intercourse with me, and when he did, I hadn’t been allowed to have an orgasm in years (and when I say rarely, I mean 3-4 times a year, no exaggeration, I kept track. And when I say I wasn’t allowed to have an orgasm, I mean he hadn’t been responsible for one – I did masturbate on my own when he wasn’t around or was asleep). But blow jobs, or hummers as he calls them, were a regular thing. He had once said I had ice in my veins, but when one is not allowed an orgasm, would the other actually think that one would want to have sex? FYI – females have their version of blue balls, and it lasts for 2 to 3 days, not fun!
Just a side note – Have I mentioned that we weren’t sleeping in the same bed? That had slowly ended years before that because (and I am going to be perfectly honest here) I snore and he would only allow me to sleep in one position at night – this would leave me in a lot of pain the next day, and the fact that he slept in the middle of the bed and only left me a sliver of the bed didn’t help. So I started sleeping on the pull out couch on the weekends, and eventually ended up out there all the time. After a while I was allowed to get a futon with a spring mattress and that was my bed. Now this “bed” of mine was in a den type room off to the side of the living room – it had a double wide doorway to it and no doors, so there was no privacy and was not like a bedroom or anything like that, but it was better then the couch. Ok, back to the main story…
Ya know what, that’s enough for now. I’ll pick it up another time….maybe, LOL.
Ok so I have these two sides – one is logical, intelligent, and knowledgeable. They other is a bit more… distorted – broken, defeated and even a touch masochistic it seems; and it goes from one end of the spectrum – extremely emotional – to the other – completely detached and no emotions at all. I tell this because I have not really given background to what I have been through, and I know that some of it will sound absurd. How could someone put up with such treatment? The fact of the matter is a lot of the time I blame myself for a lot of the treatment I have endured. Sort of a “you made your bed, now lie in it” attitude. That would be the “distorted” side I think; or maybe it’s the logical side? Guess it could be either. I have a tendency to approach and describe all of this with a detached, analytical eye at times – an “it is what it is” mind-set.
Well, I’ll let everyone else be the judge of that as I let my story unfold…
Oh, what a wonderful weekend I had (not!). See, Friday night, when I had to ask for grocery money for the next morning, he told me that well, he wanted a blow job. If I wanted grocery money, I was going to have to blow him was the jest of it. I got so pissed off that I stormed out of the bed room (I was putting him to bed, and yes, I have to put him to bed). Immediately I knew I had screwed up – that I wasn’t going to be allowed to go grocery shopping unless I gave him a hummer, so I tried to go back, but it was too late – he was in his revenge mode and would have none of that.
I knew that if I didn’t fix this, then the next couple of weeks were going to be hell. So the next morning he was up early, and I proceeded to kiss his ass in a big way – seducing him, and not giving up. I had eventually swayed him to the bedroom and gave him his hummer to appease him. But of course I still had to be punished. So I was not allowed to go grocery shopping by myself, and he came along with me (trust me, this was a punishment – I hate him with me when I go grocery shopping; it’s the only time I get to get out of the house alone, and I relish every moment).
This just reminded me that no matter what, I am still going to be controlled and manipulated by him – it is never going to change. That I am completely alone and my life is never going to change. That just because I thought that things might have been getting better, the events of this past weekend, along with his regressing to previous less-savory behavior is just proof to the fact that they are not. That I am just so alone; that, coupled with other events that have brought me back to the knowledge that everyone leaves and no one really wants to be bothered with other peoples problems – certainly not mine. I’m just one of those people that are simple not worth the effort.
Ahh well. Maybe there’s a way I can get my Dad and Gail to take Adam so I can push my plans up early and end it now. I’m not going to make it much longer, I’m just too tired to put forth the effort any more.
Enough for now—
So, it’s the 18 of April, and tax day. He went and spent over a thousand bucks (more like $1500.00, if not more) on frog stuff (and he doesn’t even have the frogs yet, ugh), and when we paid the taxes, we had to use the credit card to pay it, and beg borrow and steal to pay the state taxes, cuz they only take payments from accounts, not credit cards. And all in time for my birthday this Friday and Easter this Sunday.
Now here’s an added bonus, the last major purchase he made for his frog stuff, was a security cam system, complete with 8 cameras. Seems he wanted to be able to watch his frogs (which he doesn’t have yet mind you), but all I can see is a way for him to spy on me. Of course he insisted it was to watch his frogs, but wouldn’t ya know it, he pointed one of those stupid cameras right where I sit in the living room. The man needs some serious professional help.
But before that, he said he wanted to give me his computer room for a bedroom (at the time I had my futon in the side room off the living room – no doors, just a double wide opening like you would see between a living room and a dining room). I jumped at it, before he could change his mind, though I always thought he would anyways and take it back, which he hasn’t (says he likes the idea of me having my own room, go figure).
Oh, and did I mention that the washer died last week? I was sooo upset; thought he would tell me to deal, worse case scenario – that I would have to wash everything by hand. Best – I would be able to go to the Laundromat and actually dry the clothes). But then he said to look and see if Lowe’s had a 6-month same as cash thing, and then we could go get a washer/dryer from there. I was floored, but again, jumped at it. Of course the day they were suppose to deliver them, their truck broke down and had to wait an additional 2 days to get them, but I have them now, and I no longer have to hang every thing up – WOOT (my dryer hasn’t been able to dry anything for a year and a half)!
Wow, I really haven’t written in a while, because I just realized that I didn’t mention that he let me finally get glasses too! Have needed them for two years, and he backed out of my last attempt at getting glasses. He was none too pleased in letting me make an appointment (it was Adam’s 16th birthday, and he took the day off and kept Adam out of school for the day). It took way too long in his opinion, but he muddled through, even though it still was quite expensive in my assessment (even with insurance), he paid it and let me get them. Oh I ended up getting progressive with 3 lines of vision – my first pair of glasses and they’re bifocals, lol.
Ok, stopping right now –
(This post was originally written 1/31/11 as well – quite a busy day for me it seems, LOL)
One of the reasons I started this blog/journal, besides making some sort of record of things, was to give me a place to put down my feelings and pain. There was a time that in order to deal with my inner pain, I cut myself; sliced my arm, my inner thigh. It was a way to stop the spiraling inner pain, sort of like when you slap a hysterical chick to get her under control – it was an outlet.
But I’ve been good for a good year and a half and not cut… until recently that is. I can’t seem to get on top of things, like a surfer getting on top of a giant wave. If I don’t ride it just so, it will come crashing down on my head with such force that it will keep me under and I will simply drown.
Don’t know what I’m gonna do if I can’t get this spiraling pain thing under control…
(Ok, well here is post no. three that I just left in draft form on 1/31/11 – why break up a set, right? LOL)
Well here we go, they say things always come in three’s, don’t they? So, first I had an online friend pretty much give me the kiss off (I feel so used, but that’s a whole other thing – quite frankly it hurts too much to discuss yet), then I find out the hubby got into a car accident because of his ‘I’m-better-then-everyone-else-so-you-better-get-the-hell-outa-my-way’ attitude, and now this… see, my son’s class ring was delivered today, and the first thing that this wonderful father of my offspring did was take it away. He informed my son that he doesn’t get it until he actually graduates from high school. Who ever heard of such a thing?? Seriously, he gives the word controlling a whole new meaning.
Ah well, just another day in the torturous life of…..
Well, just opened up a box that was delivered and guess what I found? You will never EVER guess!! A side mirror to hubby’s outlander. Gave him an IM, and asked him about it. Seems he smashed it a couple of weeks ago. (Never once said a word to me, btw) Apparently he was on his way to work, when some guy, going the opposite way, smashed the mirror driving by. (yeah, THAT close!) according to T, the other guy was a foot on his side and there was no shoulder, so I’m assuming they skimmed each other. The other guy kept going and T was left with a smashed mirror. He even admitted that and inch closer, and things would have been much, much worse.
Now I know…a few questions arise from this little story – first and foremost, could T not swerve out of the way? Well, let me tell you, that is not what T does…he will ride the dividing line if he thinks the on coming car is too close to his side of the road. He feels it is his duty to teach the other driver to stay on their side of the road. Isn’t he afraid he will cause an accident you ask? He believes that if an accident should occur, it will be the other driver’s fault, so they will have to take care of everything. Forget the fact that he would have no way to get home…he would have to get a tow truck…get it to a garage…deal with his insurance company…figure out a way to get to and from work…….yeah, he wouldn’t have to deal with anything – NOT!
This is a discussion I have had with him so many, many times, for I have been sitting next to him countless times when he has done this. I have called him the poster child for ‘cutting your nose off to spite your face’. For some god forsaken reason he thinks that everyone should get out of his way and cow-tow to his will, his wishes. And let me tell you, he sort of laughs it off when he ends up on the other side of the line and he gets in someone else’s way.
So, anyways, now we are stuck with the bill of a brand new side mirror (yeah, I know, he should have checked around and gotten a second-hand one), and getting it installed. And for some reason it is no big deal that he did this – that he is actually responsible for the entire incident (I mean really – doesn’t one know by the age of 46 that you DON’T play chicken on the road??).
And to rub salt in the wound, he has been mad at me for the last two weeks, being snide and giving me the silent treatment (this was because I used Skype – he was under the delusion that I had to log into a persons personal server to get into Skype and talk to them. A fact that is, and if you have ever used Skype you know this already, simply is not true.) He was under the impression that the person I was chatting to could trace my ip address and find where I am. (ok, this is where I call him idiot). So here I have been – beating myself up, tip-toeing around him, trying not to ensue his wrath any further, a giant knot in my stomach eating away at my insides, and he went ahead and caused an accident and didn’t say a word – geesh.
Am I such a horrible person that I bring this type of mayhem onto myself? Am I atoning for some horrific deed from my checkered past? Am I just a bad person who deserves no happiness or joy in their life? If this is what the powers that be are trying to beat me over the head with, then I should just move my plans up and end it asap.
Ahh well…. so, there is yet another tidbit that is transforming my sanity into something that is not.
Ya know, I don’t know what it is with me – do I have some neon sign blinking over my head saying dumb-ass? Gullible bitch that is dumb enough to believe whatever line anyone spiels? That’s right! Step right up folks, give the lil’ missy you’re most outrageous line, throw in some puppy dog eyes and an innuendo of mock sincerity, and she will give you whatever the hell you want!!
… I am just a putz …. See what happens when you think, if only for a moment, that there are people out there that don’t want to use you for whatever purpose that suits them? I am such an idiot… ahh well…..back to being stone cold…time to start getting serious about getting everything in order…I’m not gonna make it for three more years – just too much damn work. Time to concentrate on getting my affairs in order – go through everything and throw stuff away and organize things. I just don’t get why anyone would want to stay in this world…I sure as hell don’t want to.
(this draft was originally written 1/31/11)