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Fifty Shades of Truth and BS

Exposing abuse under the guise of BDSM & related reflections on self-recovery.

M was for Master

We did not participate in BDSM casually. To my partner and me at the time, it was our lifestyle and we lived our lives as such. He was my Master and I was his slave. I wore a slave collar on my neck 24/7 to show his ownership over me and I obeyed his every command. I called him Master but in public I shortened his formal title to “M”. I attempted to keep our lifestyle somewhat discreet outside of our home but my Master frequently enjoyed demonstrating his control over me in public which always made me feel ashamed or degraded in some way.

The locked metal collar that I wore 24/7 was sometimes a tip off to strangers as to what kind of relationship my Master “M” and I had. Sometimes in public he would grab my collar and forcefully pull me around with it much like he would a dog in training just because he enjoyed seeing how strangers would react. He basked in the feeling that he had all control over me and that I would do whatever he wished regardless of how it made me feel. I was his slave after all, and he taught me that a good slave does what their Master commands under any circumstance. And I was prepared to do exactly that. Although the thought of following his every wish terrified me, it scared me much less than disobeying his commands out of fear of a severe punishment or reprimand that was sure to come should I transgress.

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My 24/7 slave collar with a fancy pendant attached.

But something changed in me eventually. After years of what I now see as abuse, I started to take into account how the strangers that were subject to my Master’s treatment of me were reacting. They were shocked and astonished. It wasn’t only strangers that were shocked but also our long time friends who had seen more than most strangers could imagine. They started to make comments to my Master that upset him. They did not think our relationship was healthy and some stopped coming around us. And I didn’t blame them. Their absence helped me to realize that my Master’s and my relationship was not healthy.

The little seed of doubt had been planted in me long before I started to notice how other people were reacting to my Master’s and my relationship. But I never trusted myself enough to nourish that seed and allow it to grow. I did not listen to many warnings that various concerned people threw my way. I continued to be the good slave that my Master wanted me to be and ignored how horrible I felt inside. And I now know that this is an unhealthy codependent behavior. Codependency was something I learned as child growing up in an environment filled with drugs, alcohol and abuse. I was simply reverting back to what had been ingrained in me since a young age and it was more than difficult for me to stop. I needed help but I did not know how to pursue it, especially while under my Master’s control.

I eventually began to see a therapist who instantly pinpointed my codependent behaviors. I was honest with my therapist and told her about ho my Master’s and my relationship was ran. He was in control of everything and I had no say. I was surprised that he allowed me to go to therapy but I told my therapist if he told me to stop that I would obey. If I did not, there would be repercussions that I wanted nothing to do with. She was concerned and asked me why I wanted to be with such a man. And at that moment I realized that I no longer felt like I had a choice with my Master. I did not feel that I could simply leave him. I was terrified that he would either kill me or ruin my life in some way. And I was shocked that our relationship had gotten to that point but I did not know what to do about it. My therapist was kind enough to suggest a few ways that I could begin my exit from the relationship but at that time my Master demanded I stop therapy and so I heeded his wishes.

I held onto my seed of doubt but it took a catastrophe that was far beyond my control to end the abusive relationship. M was my Master and I can honestly say that it was he who officially ended our relationship. I am unsure if I would have ever mustered the courage to leave him despite all of the doubt that I had growing inside of me. My slavery was my identity. I had forgotten all other sides of myself and did not believe that I could find them again. M had done a good job beating the true me into oblivion and obscurity. But M also blessed me when he let me go. That was when I was forced to find those parts of me that seemed to be lost. I found that they were not lost but just hidden and to this day I still find parts of myself that had vanished under M’s control.

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When PTSD Rears It’s Sneaky Little Head

Last night had a night-terror dream that was similar to what I used to deal with every night when I was going through the thick of my PTSD. I woke up screaming and crying and for some reason I was in literal physical pain in my stomach. And although it was terrifying, it has reminded me how far I have come in my (C)PTSD recovery.

I am thankful that I am no longer frightened to fall asleep every night. I used to stay up for as long as possible, sometimes days on end just to avoid the impending doom of whatever nightmare I was bound to have that night. I was going through this only about a year ago so I can clearly see that I have progressed a tremendous amount since then in my recovery. It has been a slow process but I am grateful for any advancements that I have made. And I am proud of myself as well.

There are certainly other times when PTSD pops up and bothers me. Times like when my friends suggest I take an Uber or Taxi somewhere. I automatically catastrophize the situation in my head and assume something horrendous will happen to me. Usually I think that the driver will attack me or some other bad situation of the sort will occur. There are also many instances that I am scared to go to certain places or events simply out of the fear of seeing Abuser M. And I understand this is a downright ridiculous fear because I have not seen him in person in years and I also know in my rational head that he wouldn’t dare approach me these days because he knows that he has no control over me.

There are other times too that PTSD will rear it’s ugly head but these days I try not to let it get to me. I try to take note of those little red flags when PTSD is screaming at me and I try to conquer whatever my anxieties are attempting to keep me from doing. And I believe doing so has helped me progress tremendously in my (C)PTSD recovery. I try not to let these fears hold me back. I am not perfect and sometimes the fears get the best of me but I can proudly say that now a days it doesn’t happen much.

And I now know that it is possible to thrive and not survive!

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The Ultimate Guide to BDSM – Video by Carvaka

Hello Lovelies!

The release of Fifty Shades Darker has reignited the general public’s interest in all things BDSM. However, many newbie BDSM’ers are often left a little bewildered about some of the finer details of this strange new world. While we all are pretty familiar with handcuffs and blindfolds, many would struggle to tell their armbinders from their Wartenberg Pinwheels! Thankfully the guys over at Carvaka have produced an ultimate guide that tells you all you need to know. It even covers an explanation of some of the slightly confusing lingo used as well as introducing some of the more commonly used BDSM toys. So if you are intrigued by BDSM and looking to learn a little bit more, check out the below video!

And as always, please stay safe, sane and consensual.

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No Still Means No When it Comes to Consensual Nonconsent & BDSM – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


I recently saw a flyer posted online that lists 4 criteria for consent. The poster spoke to me as it pointed out factors that aren’t usually pinpointed when explaining the concept of consent. Consent can easily be described by the term “no means no”. If your partner says “no” to engaging in an activity then they are not giving you their consent to engage said activity. Such an explanation however can get much more complicated and when you throw BDSM and consensual nonconsent into the mix.  In this case consent can be downright confusing.

Abuser M and I engaged in a BDSM relationship where I was his slave and he was my “Master”.  He told me that by engaging in consensual nonconsent, I was to do what he said at all times. I was not extremely experienced in BDSM when I began our relationship and I took every one of his words for truth. He was, after all my Master and I had complete trust in him. If only I had learned more about consental nonconsent from the local BDSM community, I believe that I would have been safe from a lot of the abuse that I endured while under Abuser M’s control. I now know that he used BDSM as a guise for the domestic abuse that he inflicted on me in every aspect of our relationship.

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The flyer that I speak of has been added to this post for your review below. I want to discuss each of the 4 criteria listed and how my BDSM relationship with Abuser M muddled the definition in my head to the point that I was clueless on the subject.

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The flyer states that consent is 1. Active, 2. Based on Equal Power, 3. A Choice and finally 4. A Process.

“1. Consent is Active. Just because a partner didn’t say ‘no’ doesn’t mean they have given consent. Ask because only ‘YES’ means ‘YES’.” Abuser M and I had such a relationship where “no” was not in my vocabulary when speaking to him. If I even implied that I wanted to go against his will, he would punish me in various ways. He told me that in order to be a slave I needed to completely submit to his every whim, whether I liked it or not. His concept of slavery completely blew away this first criteria of consent. First of all, he never asked for anything of me. He always simply took what he wanted especially when it came to sex. In fact, he raped me in a public outdoor location on our first date. He did not ask me for my permission to have sex, he simply forced himself on me so brutally that I was injured and even broke my shoe when I strained to pull away. I somehow rationalized this rape in my head by becoming his slave. In my mind that made his act OK. However, now knowing what I know about consent, he broke the very first rule the first time I ever met him and I should have run the other way and never looked back. This set the precedence for the remainder of our relationship. He always forced himself on me whenever he pleased and frequently forced me to engage in sexual acts that I wanted nothing to do with. He never asked… just because I didn’t verbally say no to him did not mean that I was consenting to his acts.

“2. Consent is based on equal power. If someone is underage, drunk, asleep or in another vulnerable position, they cannot consent.” Abuser M broke this principle in multiple ways. I believe that I was constantly in a vulnerable position when it came to our interactions because I was terrified of him and he made me believe that I was his slave in every way. I was not properly informed on what a slave truly is in a healthy BDSM relationship and he used the title to disguise the fact that I didn’t say no to him because I was terrified of what he would do to me. In addition there were countless times when Abuser M took advantage of me sexually when I was under the influence of alcohol or other substances. Not only did he force himself on me numerous times when I was drunk but there were other times that he forced me to overdose on cough medications (also known as Robo-tripping) because the trip would make me so high out of my mind that I couldn’t feel pain. During those times he would beat me to a pulp without so much as a whimper from me because I couldn’t feel it.  There were other times when Abuser M would engage in sexual activities with me when I was asleep.  I would wake up to him on top of me and frequently choking me while forcefully having sex with me.  I was obviously never given the opportunity to say yes or no in these situations.

“3. Consent is a choice. We must make sure our partners feel free to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ without pressure. If we aren’t willing to take ‘no’ for an answer, consent cannot happen.” This criteria blew my socks off when I read it. At absolutely no point in my relationship with Abuser M did I ever feel the ability to say no to him. He made it clear that a slave never said no to their Master. Not only did I fear that I would be physically hurt if I ever refused him, I also feared that he would leave me. I had been so degraded by Abuser M that I was terrified of him leaving me. I felt that I deserved him and the treatment that he inflicted on me. There were very few times early on in our relationship that I did attempt to say “no” to Abuser M and those times resulted in severe physical, mental and emotional abuse towards me. I quickly learned that I could never say no to Abuser M if I wanted to feel safe.  Even if I did say no to Abuser M, he would not accept it as an answer.

“4. Consent is a process. Consent requires ongoing conversations with lots of trust. Just because someone says yes to making out doesn’t mean they want to do anything else. You can change your mind at any time.” Once I had accepted that I was Abuser M’s slave, I felt there was no turning back until he released me from his control. I never felt that there was an opportunity to change my mind when it came to Abuser M’s and my relationship because he had control of every aspect of my life. In addition, there was never a point in our relationship that Abuser M asked to assess our relationship to see if I was OK with what was going on. I said yes to being his slave and he made me believe that my doing so gave him the right to do whatever he wanted with me, even when I said no later on in our relationship.

The moral of this post is to state that consent should and can happen in a BDSM relationship.  BDSM should not be used as a guise to cover domestic violence. There are many people who engage in healthy BDSM relationships where communication is key to their relationship. Consent is always a key factor in these relationships. There are entire organizations within the BDSM community whose sole purpose is to promote the consent culture. I applaud these organizations and the people who work to promote consent culture in the BDSM lifestyle. I wish that I had encountered them when I was engaged in the various unhealthy BDSM relationships that I engaged in. I believe that this sort of out reach is of utmost importance in such communities where consent can be such a confusing idea.

I would like to briefly suggest ways that people looking to engage in a healthy BDSM relationship can also incorporate all four of the mentioned criteria for consent into their relationships. Once you get the hang of it, consent isn’t a difficult concept even under the influence of a BDSM relationship.

Consent is Active – while engaging in a BDSM scene, the dominant (or top) should always make sure beforehand what the submissive (or bottom) is consenting to.  If at any time during the scene the submissive feels uncomfortable, the submissive should have the right to call a safeword to promptly stop the activities that they are no longer willing to engage in. Consent is based on equal power – within a power exchange relationship power can still be equal when it comes to consent.   Never engage in a BDSM scene while under the influence of any substance and it should always be made clear the submissive has the power to revoke their submission at any time.  Consent is a choice – within a BDSM scene or relationship a dominant should always be willing to accept when a submissive does not want to engage in an activity.  Negotiate the terms of your relationship and/or scene before engaging so that it is made clear to both parties what each are willing to engage in and what is clearly off-limits.  And finally consent is a process – those engaging in a BDSM relationship (or even just a scene) should frequently check in with their partner to make sure that everything is going smoothly on both ends.  If anything feels wrong at any time, stop the scene and openly discuss what has gone wrong.  It is also helpful in general to have written terms for a BDSM relationship that clearly state what activities each party is willing to engage in.  Such a document should never be taken as a legal contract and can be revoked or revised at any time.  Creating such a document is a healthy and easy way to clearly express the desires or both parties involved.

In addition to the suggestions that I have made above, there are many websites that you can find on the subject of consensual nonconsent by searching the term in a search engine.

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His Idea of Polyamory Was One Sided – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


Over the years I have encountered so many different definitions and ways to describe polyamory.  I ran across a definition on the website www.PolyFidelity.org.au that I found to be most accurate;

In 1999, Morning Glory Zell-Ravenheart was asked by the editor of the Oxford English Dictionary to provide a definition of the term (which the dictionary had not previously recognised). Her definition was:

The practice, state or ability of having more than one sexual loving relationship at the same time, with the full knowledge and consent of all partners involved. This term was meant to be inclusive, and in that context, we have never intended to particularly exclude “swinging” per se, if practitioners thereof wished to adopt the term and include themselves… The two essential ingredients of the concept of polyamory are more than one; and loving. That is, it is expected that the people in such relationships have a loving emotional bond, are involved in each other’s lives multi-dimensionally, and care for each other. This term is not intended to apply to merely casual recreational sex, anonymous orgies, one-night stands, pick-ups, prostitution, “cheating,” serial monogamy, or the popular definition of swinging as “mate-swapping” parties.

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Polyamory is a hot topic amongst the BDSM community.  There are many people within the community who engage in Dom/sub relationships and also identify as polyamorous.  I have met many “poly families” who seem quite happy and fulfilled in their lives.  It can happen, but all parties must be fully on board.

However, I personally do not identify as polyamorous.  I believe that there are people who are truly polyamorous and those who are not.  I do not believe that there is an in between or gray area.  You can either accept and live in the poly lifestyle or you can’t.  People who force polyamory on themselves but who are not truly polyamorous cannot be happy in their heart of hearts.  There are countless people who have tried to engage in polyamorous relationships and found that they cannot be content living in such a lifestyle.  Usually the main factor that determines so is jealousy.  Jealousy after all, is a natural human emotion and it rears its ugly head so frequently among people who engage in polyamorous relationships.

Abuser M identified as polyamorous.  There was only one catch.  He demanded that me, his main partner stayed true to him and only him.  He would not allow me to engage in any romantic relationship outside of our own.  He wanted complete control of me in every way and it would have been a threat to him if I shared my love with anyone else.  Conveniently, I did not personally identify as polyamorous and the word “no” was something I never said to abuser M.  Me having another partner would never be an issue because it was something I was not interested in.

About a year and a half into our relationship abuser M revealed to me that he was preparing to move another girl into our home so that he could engage in a polyamorous relationship with her.  What was I to do other than agree?  I was completely submissive to him in every way and whatever he wanted was delivered to him without a fuss.

He knew that I was stressed about the new girl that was about to enter our relationship and to appease my anxiety he offered up a few ground rules that he portrayed as a way to displace my distress.  He told me that I would always be his primary partner – meaning I was his number one or sorts.  He told me he loved me more than her and that I would always be his priority.  He also said that there would be a clear pecking order in our household and that this girl would be made to do whatever I wished.  She would be on the bottom of our kinky totem pole.  I tried to accept these meager offerings but deep inside knew that nothing would make me feel better about what was about to take place.

The other girl arrived and he quickly collared her as his slave.  We both wore the same 24/7 collar only hers was heavier to signify that she was more submissive to him than I was.  I took it as a clear sign that he desired her more than me because he only wanted complete and utter submission from his women.  I now see that this tactic was just another way to put me down and keep me under his thumb.  I could never be quite good enough for him.

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I wore the 1/4 inch collar & she wore the 3/8 inch design to signify our level of submission towards our Master.

We converted our bedroom so that the other girl could sleep on the opposite side of him as me, but we were all to sleep in the same bed.  Abuser M wanted to have both of us at the same time even though her and I wanted nothing to do with each other.  We both had assigned roles within our house which became a great source of tension as I was used to fulfilling all of the roles before she had arrive.  Both of us were treated as slaves, waiting on him hand in foot.  He also physically abused the other girl yet she always asked for more.  I was selfishly thankful that he had someone else to release some of his sadistic tendencies on.  By creating such a household, abuse M set himself up to be the ultimate king of his own delusional castle.

Eventually this girl also became violent and abusive towards me.  I felt like I was literally going crazy due to my living situation and I was torn.  I was being forced to live a life that I wanted nothing to do with but if I chose otherwise, my Master would want nothing to do with me and would release me.  He told me that I had no say in the matter and that if I did not agree with his decision to engage in polyamory I could leave.  In retrospect, I wish that I had left him at that point but I now know that it was impossible for me to do so because I was completely dependent on him in every way.  He had managed to situate my life so that I could never leave and if I did ever try, it would be a horrible mess.  I eventually found this to be very true when I was able to escape his control at a later time.

There is so much more that I can say about this “polyamorous” relationship that I was forced to be on one side of but I feel those words may be better suited for other blog posts.

The reason for this post is to point out that abuser M’s behavior and treatment of me was abusive and he acted solely on his narcissism.  He wasn’t living the poly lifestyle because if he was, he would have also allowed me to do so.  Polyamory is not a one-sided street.

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 After conversing with many true self-proclaimed polyamorists, I found that they were disgusted with his behavior and also classified it as abuse, as I was not truly consenting to such behavior.   He was using the guise of polyamory to disguise the fact that he wanted to engage in a sexual relationship with another woman regardless of what I thought.  I now know that it didn’t matter what I thought, but he titled himself as polyamorous so that he could justify the extra relationship to people who knew us.  Yes, he openly displayed his polyamorous relationship to our mutual friends, family and coworkers.  How else could he possibly explain the extra relationship that he was engaging in?

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He Says He Loves Me

He says he loves me but how should I begin to believe him?  So many people have said they loved me throughout my life and have proved otherwise.

My dad said he loved me yet I haven’t had a relationship with him since I was 5 years old.  He has abandoned me.  Is that love?

My mother said she loved me despite the fact that she abused and neglected me throughout my childhood and we can no longer have a relationship due to her failure to respect my boundaries.  Is that love?

My first serious boyfriend said he loved me but when we moved in together at the age of 19 he cheated on me with his boss within the first month of living in our a shared home.  Is that love?

Abuser M said he loved me but he acted out his violent fantasies on me and then left me in the dust reeling with confusion.  Is that love?

My ex boyfriend said he loved me yet he couldn’t stand up to his abusive friends and family when I begged for his help.  Is that love?

I have said I love myself but I have put myself through a sort of constant torturous reenactment of my abusive childhood.  Is that love?

And he wonders why I hear those words “I love you” yet I still can’t believe them.  For if I believed his words, I would be exposing myself to more vulnerability and confusion.

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The House Mouse Who Escaped – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


Master Ron wanted to save me. No one had ever saved me before and it sounded like a dream come true.  He made me feel safe, he gave me a security that no other man had ever given me.  I would have done almost anything for him.  I say almost because it was his final demand that completely broke my trust in our relationship and him and resulted in my escape.

Our relationship was new to me.  It was nothing like I had ever experienced before.  It was something that I felt I needed.  I had engaged in BDSM relationships before but had never been in an 24/7 TPE relationship where it was clear what my daily role was.  It gave me structure and purpose.  It made me feel wanted and loved.  He was much older than me, older than even my own father.  I called him Master or Daddy.  I was proud to have him rule and protect me.  I felt invincible while I was by his side and I didn’t care what anyone thought of our relationship.  He gave me attention that no one else had ever given me, including my family.  He seemed to care about me and it drew me in.  I felt loyal to him and did not question his actions.  I felt that surely if he were in the place he was, he must have had the authority to guide me in life.

I was his house-mouse and his number two submissive.  He had one other woman who was senior to me in the pecking order of our house and I felt happy in my place.  I had my own bedroom and rarely slept with Master Ron.  His other submissive slept with him nearly every night.  My main role in the house was to keep the house in perfect order by cooking and cleaning and to also cater to his personal needs whenever he wished.  I felt that I had purpose and that I was in a “family” who loved and looked out for me.  It was everything that my real family had never given me.  I craved this closeness and interaction with people who I felt accepted me for myself.

My daily life with Master Ron was highly structured and if I faltered I was punished.  Punishment was an important aspect of our relationship, and I craved it.  I felt I needed to be corrected and guided.  Before meeting Master Ron, I never had a man provide such guidance in my life.  Punishments varied depending on my offense.  I was punished for anything from not cleaning to Master Ron’s standards to not meeting my weight loss goals.  I felt that punishment held me accountable and that with Master Ron’s guidance I was able to hold myself to a higher standard and better myself.

Our relationship began to falter only when his number one submissive went missing.  We soon found out that she was living a double life and had a husband and children in a different part of the state.  I began to lose trust in Master Ron because I could not understand how he could bring such a lying and manipulative person into our lives.  I had exposed every part of myself to Master Ron and his number one submissive and felt betrayed by both of them on numerous levels.  I held to my word however and decided to stay loyal to him regardless of my feelings of confusion and betrayal.

And then our happy world was shattered.  He offered to abandon his number one submissive and for me to take her place.  He was frustrated with her and also felt betrayed.  But somehow this change in roles hurt and confused me deep down.  I knew that he thought I would take his offer as an honor but in reality it drove a wedge between our relationship.  I did not understand how he could so easily drop this woman from his life, regardless of the lies she had spewed at us.  We were after all a family who had been through so much together.  I felt that our family should have attempted to work out the differences and to move on.  I felt that him replacing her behind her back, regardless of her wrong doings was dishonest and honesty was of the utmost importance to me between his and my relationship.  I don’t know if this was naive of me but I did not want our family to fall apart.  I also feared that if Master Ron could so easily replace his number one, that he could also replace me with ease.  Our unique family was something that I never had before and I couldn’t believe that it was falling apart before my eyes.

I never officially accepted his offer, telling him that I would like to see if his number one submissive would return.  I not only had a relationship with him, but I had one with her and I respected her as well.  I felt loyalty to her much akin to like a sister would.  I knew that he felt that I had defied him by not accepting his offer and he began to push me in ways that he had never done so before.  At this time in our relationship I was so completely confused and perhaps distant because our family as a whole had been shattered and the family dynamic was something that I felt I needed.  He began to punish me in ways that I felt were abusive and were not in my best interest.  One such punishment was making me sleep on the floor of the gym for a week while eating nothing but weight loss drinks because I had not met my weekly weight loss goal.  This was his first punishment that truly felt wrong to me.

His final demand broke me.  He told me that if I was not to be his number one, that I would remain his house-mouse and nothing more.  I was to take care of the house and that included his guests.  When he said this I had an inkling of where his demand was going.  He told me that one of his friends would be coming to visit and that he would sleep with me in my room.  I was to “take care” of his friend while he stayed.  I was in complete shock.  Sleeping with another man was something that he knew I was not willing to do.  I felt that Master Ron was attempting to coerce me into doing something that went against everything inside of me because he wanted to see how far he could push me while still staying loyal to him and his demands.

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This was one of the first times that I truly trusted my gut.  My entire being told me to run and to get out fast.  I did not like where our relationship was headed and I was confused as well as hurt.  I was self-aware enough to listen to my inner voice and decided to escape.  By this point in our relationship, leaving Master Ron truly was escaping because I feared him in many ways that at the time I did not see as unhealthy.  We lived in a remote location where no one could help me if I ran.  I had no car of my own and relied on him in every way.  I could see bad things coming if I did not leave at once.  One day while he was out of the house on an errand I quickly packed my bags and arranged to be picked up.  I had left before he returned.

One my way out of the remote location I saw him driving towards me on the other side of the road.  My heart pounded as I felt all of the fear that I had kept at bay bubbling up inside of me.  Luckily, he did not notice me in the passenger seat of the car and he kept driving on.  It was at this time that I realized how truly scared I was of him.  I was proud of myself for listening to my inner voice and escaping a situation that seemed to be nothing but bad.

For a long time after I escaped Master Ron tried to lure me back into a relationship with him by contacting me through email.  He told me that he had wronged me and that things would be different if I were to return.  He tempted me with similar mind games that he had played on me once before, but this time I could clearly see them.  This time around I listened to my gut and did not return to him.  I was so thankful that I had stayed true to my beliefs and my personal limits and that I had not compromised who I was inside.  I realized through this relationship that if you compromise yourself for someone else, you may lose yourself completely.  I was pleased with myself that I was able to stay true to myself regardless of the situation I was in and how much fear I held inside.

And if finding that staying true to myself was the only lesson that I learned from this relationship, I am still pleased with the outcome.  This was a lesson that I had never fully understood before given my upbringing.  I had always been taught in various ways that submitting to a man and authority was the right thing to do regardless of your feelings inside.  Standing up for your own beliefs was to be put on the back burner.  I knew from this experience that holding to my beliefs was in my best interest because I never regretted leaving.  It taught me that I can stand up for myself and what I feel is important.  Before this point, I was terrified to do so with anyone I saw as an authoritarian figure.  It saddens me that I had to experience such drastic measures to understand this lesson that so many other people are taught at a much young age by their caregivers but I am thankful that I had the opportunity to learn it.  There have been times since leaving Master Ron that I have chosen to ignore this lesson out of self doubt and I have learned even more from doing so.  Life after all, is about living and learning.

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A Lesson Learned from my Dismissive-Avoidant Ex-Boyfriend

My last relationship took me for a loop that I could have never expected.  My boyfriend was an overall good guy, not the type I was typically used to dating in the past.  He was not physically or verbally abusive and everyone who knew him seemed to adored him.  I only heard people speak highly of him and I mistakenly assumed that he would make a wonderful partner.  I was very wrong.  Our relationship ended in a lot of drama and pain that left me confused and hurt for some time.  I have learned a lot from this relationship and I am now thankful for the experience.

The most important lesson that I learned from this failed relationship is that love is simply not enough to make a relationship work.  I loved my boyfriend very much and I assume that he also loved me.  I dreamed of spending the rest of my life with him as I had never been with such a “good guy”.  I wrongly assumed that he was the love of my life because he was loving at times and not abusive like the past men that I had been with.  Our relationship in general seemed better off than any other that I had engaged in in the past.  But there was always something not quite right and in the whole two years we spent together and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until the very end.  Once I realized what was wrong our relationship was far too damaged to salvage.

What was so horribly wrong with this man that everyone seemed to put on a pedestal?  I began to realize that his friends and family’s needs were a priority over mine and even his own.  I thought he was just being a good guy by taking care of everyone but I began to realize that by doing so he completely ignored and avoided my emotional needs at the same time.  Not only did he ignore my needs, but he would also put his on hold to please others regardless if the outcome would damage his self-worth and our relationship.  After a lot of therapy and reflection I now know that this man is a “Dismissive-Avoidant”.

A dismissive-avoidant is someone who subconsciously fears intimacy because they have learned that caregivers are not dependable.  Because of this deep-seated fear, a dismissive-avoidant type may feel that they are better off alone and will usually resort to avoiding the closeness of emotional intimacy.  This type of person is often unable to take attachment issues seriously and when pushed to do so becomes agitated and unwilling to discuss the issues at hand.  They often use work or other activities to busy themselves so that they may have an excuse to avoid emotional attachment.  They do not understand that emotional distance has an impact on them.  These types will often subconsciously resort to having their own emotional needs met by a less demanding partner who does not require reciprocation of real intimacy and closeness.  On the outside, dismissives may pin their relationship issues on their partner while deep inside they have such low self-esteem that they do not feel worthy of love and affection.  This is something that they learned from their caregivers who failed to meet their emotional needs at a very young age.

When you are in a relationship with a dismissive-avoidant they repeatedly remind you in many ways that you are quite low on their list of priorities.  They often feel that any relationship problems are their partner’s problem as they cannot identify their own feelings deep within.  A dismissive-avoidant will use distancing to limit the intimacy within their relationships that they can’t seem to tolerate. There are many different ways a dismissive can distance themselves from their partners but in my case my boyfriend would frequently “mentally check out” on me when I was trying to discuss something that was very important to me.  This treatment lead me to realize that my emotional needs were the least of my boyfriend’s worries.  And that made me feel very alone, although he was physically by my side nearly every day for our entire relationship.

Our relationship started on the rocks and I should have taken the red flags to heart and ran the other way.  The biggest wedge in our relationship was his friends and family who treated me with complete disregard and were frequently downright disrespectful to both him and me.  The first time I met his brother, he drunkenly flipped out on me and caused a huge and embarrassing scene at a party.  I felt completely unwelcome amongst his friends and family after this occurred.  His friends were the most disrespectful group of people I have ever encountered, bullying and belittling me even in front of my boyfriend who could never muster the courage to stand up to them.  My boyfriend’s family gradually became more and more abusive towards me and when I would bring these issues up to my boyfriend he would simply dismiss and avoid them.  He was used to this treatment and to him it was no big deal.  Towards the end of our relationship I felt so completely alone and worthless because that was what my boyfriend subconsciously engrained into me.  But everything else seemed great and I chose to ignore these blaring red flags because I loved him and thought that was enough for our relationship to endure.  I am not saying that the failure of our relationship was one-sided but that simply both sides must be equally engaged for a relationship to thrive.

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What have I learned from all of this heart ache?  Love is not the only factor needed to maintain a healthy relationship.  Respect and communication are also key.  Attentiveness to your partner’s needs are of the ut-most importance regardless of how you unimportant they may feel to you.  Communication cannot be one-sided and both parties must be willing to dive deep into their emotional issues if a healthy level of intimacy is to occur.  I wish that I had fully understood how important each of these aspects of a relationship are two years ago when I began my relationship with this boyfriend, but I am also thankful that I am now able to take the pain that I felt from this relationship and turn it into an important learning lesson that I hope to never forget.

And with that being said… if things just don’t feel completely right in a relationship, I suggest that you take a hard look at the red flags you are encountering and be honest with yourself.  If something feels wrong, discuss your feelings with your partner and work together to resolve them.  If the issues are being pushed back to you as your own personal problem, then your partner is dismissing your needs and may not be capable or willing to fully engage in an intimate relationship.

I hope that by sharing my experiences and reflections that my readers will be able to take my journey as a lesson and apply it to their personal lives.  Red flags in any relationship are something that should not be ignored and are there for a reason!  If you can work through them, your relationship will be that much stronger.  If you can’t, then perhaps it is time to take the high road regardless of feelings of love.

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I Am A Warrior

Today was a rough day.  I will leave it at that.

The positive part that came out of the day is that the day has proven my worth as a warrior.  This day, 4/11/16 has shown me that I do in fact have the skills necessary to fight as a woman warrior activist for domestic violence awareness.  I am very thankful that a reader had pointed out to me that I have the skills needed to be such a person.  I now realize that if I have a purpose in life, if nothing else it is to be a warrior for this cause and constant fight.  Someone must break the silence and I will continue to make my noise no matter how difficult the journey.  Perhaps my dignity and sanity has been sacrificed simply so others may use my life as a guide or an example.  And that gives me the flame to continue on with my journey in activism and self recovery.

Thank you.

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Facing Darkness

Trigger Alert


When someone has faced adversity and darkness in their past, in theory that person would eventually develop skills to better help them cope with adversity in their future.  There are all sorts of coping skills one could build in a dark atmosphere. Some skills are brilliant and functional, others can be less than functional.  I know from personal experience.

I am not stating that my past is filled with complete darkness.  There were times light peaked through.  I am very fortunate to have experienced many wonderful adventures as a child that many other kids have never dreamed of.  However, my life was very bipolar.  My life was filled with constant excitement but because of that my body was always in a constant state of “excitement”.  At a very young age (as early as I can remember) I acquired PTSD from the countless traumas that I experienced in my family life.  The childhood memories that flood to my mind are now endless.  Some have always been there but I always thought that they were normal so I never told anyone.  This I now know is very typical in childhood abuse and neglect.  I am so very thankful that I now realize that these memories are not normal and that I was severely abused and neglected as a child.  I did not deserve it and my neglectful parents and caretakers were at fault.

I try to believe that I have a purpose here in this world.  I know with certainty that I can dance through darkness and adversity with a smile on my face while others would fall flat on their face in the same step.  Perhaps this is a skill that I should harbor deep inside to use only when absolutely necessary.

I leave this blog with some historical photos of USS Bunker Hill which was attacked by Japanese Kamikazes on May 11, 1945.  I found out through doing ancestral research a few years ago that one of my Grandfathers served as a Naval Dentist on this ship.  He survived the attack (one of the deadliest attacks in US History) and all the adversity of WWII… and here we are today.  I was never fortunate enough to meet my Grandfather but I would like to thank him.

Thank you Grandpa!

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Featured Image Credits:

Facing the Darkness by Eduardo Rodriguez Calzado – 2015

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Holding Him Accountable

Hello Everyone!

I am so sorry that it has been some time since I have written.  My life over the past few months has been quite hectic.  There are days that I feel that I have fallen to where I was in the beginning of my self recovery process and then there are other days such as today when I am proud of myself for how far I have pushed myself in this healing journey thus far.

I took one of the scariest yet most important steps towards my personal recovery on Monday.  I faced abuser M in court.  I had decided some time ago to take abuser M to civil court to hold him accountable for some of the damages that I have suffered by his hands.  Although I sued abuser M for a fraction of the monetary damages that he has caused me, holding him accountable in front of the court was and is the ultimate reward for me.  Monday was the first time that I was able to seek acknowledgment from the court as to what abuser M has done to me.  Even if I do not win any monetary damages, the recognition alone is satisfying enough for me in my recovery process.  I presented over 30 photographs that showed proof of the abuse I endured and I could tell that the judge was no longer impressed with abuser M once he saw the physical terror that he put me through.

As I suspected, abuser M came to court “prepared” with nothing more than intimidation and a slew of irrelevant old emails.  He also brought his girlfriend along as a “witness” which seemed more damaging than good for him.  Although the witness did not speak in court, I came prepared with documentation and photos to discredit his girlfriend.  Lets just say that her presence in the court room did not do him any justice.  He also unsuccessfully attempted to counter sue me which clearly showed that he is clueless when it comes to the legal system. 

The most traumatic part about facing abuser M in court had nothing to do with the verbal jabs and obvious lies that he threw at me and the court but it was simply seeing him in person again for the first time since I had obtained a restraining order against him early last year.  His physical presence alone scares me.  He is a large and scary looking man.  Yesterday there were times that I was shaking being in his presence but then I reminded myself that I am the one in control now.  Abuser M no longer has any power over me physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, sexually, or any other ways that I thought he once did.  He is no longer protected in his self created fantasy world where he is the ultimate master and charmer and everyone obeys his wish.  He is nothing but a lowly graveling worm and I can clearly see that now.   

Today I checked the court website and saw that a judgment has already been made in the case.  Although I will not know the judgment until it arrives in the mail, I feel relieved that this step in my recovery process is complete.  I am glad that the court was able to hear my case regardless of the outcome.  I am thankful that there are avenues that I can take to hold abuser M accountable for the abuse that he put me through for so long.

I am finally holding him accountable and taking my power back.

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Dear Reader; Thank You From the Bottom of My Heart! <3

Dear Reader;

Let’s be honest.  I was terrified to create Fifty Shades Of Truth and BS because I knew it would expose the unflattering truths of the BDSM lifestyle that I used to live. The social stigma and the daily life associated with such a lifestyle are not nearly as glamorous as the elaborate fantasies told in the Fifty Shades Trilogy (by author E. L. James).  Yet, here you are still reading.

Most people cannot begin to fathom the lifestyle that I onced lived as an active member of the BDSM community.  I was once labeled as a slave and I naively assumed the position given my previous life conditioning.  I did not have the ability to say “no” to abuser M nor was I able to recognize that such a relationship was unhealthy and doomed from the get-go.  Did I live the 24/7 BDSM lifestyle by choice?  No.  There was a time when I was in denial and refused to believe or acknowledge that my introduction and entry into the lifestyle was against my will.  However, after quite a bit of recovery work I now see that my apparent complete submission to a self proclaimed sociopath (amongst other things) was nothing more than a product of the combination of circumstance associated with the neglect and abuse that I endured as a child as well as the vulnerabilities associated with such traumas.  My vulnerabilities were completely exposed and apparent to such a man of wit and manipulation.  And he seized the opportunity to his advantage. 

I now also realize that I am not alone in this frequent phenomenon.  BDSM can seem fun and enchanting but it can also be very dangerous and even deadly at times.  And that is one of the many reasons as to why I am ending the silence on my personal experiences with domestic violence and related abuse.

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Let’s be even more honest.  I truly believed that I would be highly stigmatized due to the lifestyle that I engaged in (despite the good intention behind the message that I am trying to exude here).  If only I could easily convey the isolating stigma that I have personally encountered by being an open member of such a community but it is not so easy to comprehend if you have not personally encountered similar stigmatization yourself.  It is an assumed and calculated risk if you openly claim to engage in the BDSM lifestyle.  Yet such a risk healthily provokes the members of the BDSM community to lovingly and loyally support each other as if they are all members of an extended tight knit family.

However… to my great astonishment I have encountered 99% positive feedback on my blog.  I am taken aback!  Yes of course I have encountered a few negative duds along the way, but such is life.  I won’t let words bring me down after all I have endured in life.

Anyways, what I really want to say is…

THANK YOU FOR FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!

For your support.

It means the world to me. 

This letter is intended for everyone and anyone who is reading my blog, despite your opinions or viewpoints.  The purpose of my blog is to spread the word about the dangers associated with BDSM and related domestic abuse while also promoting my recovery from CPTSD.  Your presence here on my blog has accomplished just that.  So, thank you again from the bottom of my heart.

With Love,

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 P.S. I hope you stay tuned in to my future journey!

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The Day I Was Hit & Ran Over By A Truck – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


I believe that I was in second grade when I was hit and ran over by a Suburban SUV.  At the time I was riding my bike to/from school and home which was a few miles away.  I had to ride and maneuver my bike through fairly dangerous conditions and intersections to get to school.  To this day it is still unclear to me as to why I was not being offered rides to and from school by my step-father Chris.  My step-father worked from home and we lived fairly close to my school so he did have the chance to volunteer to get me to school safely.  However, no one really cared about my safety as long as I got to school on time.

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And so I rode my bike to and from school starting in the second grade.  I’m unsure how old I was at that time but I remember being cold in the mornings in particular.  I attended a private school where pre-determined plaid uniforms were mandatory and I found the outfits to be chilly as well as itchy.  I could never seem to get warm enough in those plaid uniforms.  I remember being scolded about how expensive the uniforms were and I felt really bad that my parents had to spend so much money on clothes that I hated.  I was not a fan of wearing the uniforms to say the least but uniforms were a requirement of the school.  Therefore I was wearing a uniform on the day that I was hit and ran over.

The details of the accident are as follows; I was riding my bike home from school so the time must have been anywhere from 1:30 to 4:30 in the afternoon.  I was beginning to cross the crosswalk in a busy intersection close to a mall.  A woman in a dark navy blue Suburban SUV approached me on my left side to make a right turn as if she did not notice me.  Suddenly I felt the Suburban tap my left shoulder and that is the exact moment when I thought to myself that I must “get the license plate number”.  I do not know why that was my first gut reaction.  Second to my primary reaction to being hit my life slowly “flashed” before my eyes as I was knocked to the ground by the approaching Suburban.  I began to scream.

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I remember pain…  A lot of pain as the front right wheel of the Suburban ran over both of my lower legs.  Although I was laying on the ground by this point I was still positioned on the bike and the bike frame was crushed around my legs as the Suburban drove over both the bike and my legs.  The Suburban stopped before running me over with the back tires.  The lady driving the Suburban said that she was not even aware that she had hit me until she heard me screaming and by then I was already crushed under the SUV.

That was the first time I can think of that I remember my life flashing before my eyes.  That part really happened and it seemed slow, as if I had a long life to play in front of me.  After I was completely underneath the Suburban the car behind her started to honk their horn to alert her to the accident.  The driver of the car put their flashers on behind the Suburban and got out of the car.  I only saw that the driver had stopped traffic in the busy intersection and me from under the Suburban.  The bike frame was deformed around my legs and my school uniform was completely demolished.  I never got the opportunity to say thank you to the person who pulled me from under the Suburban that day, so if you are reading this, thank you!

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The next moment I realized that an EMT was frantically working on cutting my clothes off so that he could easily free me from the crushed bike frame.  I was mortified and completely humiliated!  My gut reaction was to yell at the EMT that my “step-father will be so mad at me!”.  I am unsure why I believed that Chris, my step-father would be angry at me for the damaged clothes, but at the time it seemed very rational to think so.  I was whisked to the hospital protesting in nothing more than my undergarments.  It was quite revealing and embarrassing to have my clothes cut from my body in the middle of a busy intersection, even at such a young age.  At the time I cared nothing for the pain that I was enduring but I was quite preoccupied with the worry that I would be punished for ruining my school uniform.  Apparently this behavior alerted the medical personnel to “speak in private” with both my mother and step-father.  What they said there, I will never know.

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I don’t remember my hospital stay at all but I do remember that my legs were miraculously not broken.  However, they both had clearly been ran over as there were large Suburban track marks running across both of my calves.  The doctors were surprised to inform me and my family that my legs and feet were simply deeply bruised but not broken.  They were so bruised that I was not able to walk on my own for a few months.  I remember this challenge being particularly difficult because my classroom was at the top of an old church tower and there was no elevator at the time to get up there.  If I remember right, I crawled up the stairs to get to my classes because there was no possible way for me to walk up the stairs on my own two feet.  The rest of the time I was given a wheel chair to sit in.  I believe it took about 3 months for my legs to feel healthy enough to walk on my own again.

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I hadn’t really viewed this event as extremely traumatic until recently.  I see that the accident did in fact have a profound effect on me both physically and psychologically.  For a moment that day I believed that I was going to die and it certainly was traumatic for a girl of my age.

I am curious if this accident has impacted my life in more ways that I am still unaware of and yet to find out?  Only time can tell.

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The First Munch Was Awkward – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


You may be wondering exactly what a munch is.  A munch is a casual social meeting where participants that attend are interested in or involved in BDSM.  Munches are useful to members of the BDSM community as they are a means and a physical venue to connect.  Mind you munches were popularized well before the era of social media but munches are still widely attended.  Munches act as a source of education and social interaction within local BDSM communities.  You can find a munch in nearly any large city!  Google it and see.  Perhaps you would like to check one out for yourself.

The first official munch that I attended was in 2012.  I am unsure how abuser M found out about said munch but he suggested that we check it out to possibly connect with like minded people.  I was more than happy to speak with other people in similar situations to me.  Abuser M and I did live the BDSM lifestyle 24/7 after all.  There were not many people at that time who were open about living the BDSM lifestyle.  I treasured the idea of making any friends who also lived the lifestyle and who were open to speaking about it with me.  I hungered for other humans to talk to.  I was completely isolated from the real world.  After quite some time of feeling alone in the abuse I endured, I gladly agreed to attend the munch with abuser M, not that I could really say no to him.

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I still have some specific memories about the first munch that I attended although I don’t remember a lot of details because abuser M and I attended quite a few other munches after the first trial run.  I felt completely awkward attending the first munch.  At a munch you are outing yourself to the attendees, the public around you and therefore the world.  You can’t really hide the fact that you are involved in the BDSM community if you are yapping about it with a group of people over fries and beer.  The first munch that we went to was held in downtown Berkeley, CA in a small but popular cafe.  Abuser M put on my old special “bling” collar lock just to show off his property.  This collar lock was only worn at openly BDSM events as abuser M was of the impression that the rhinestones were flashy and not “public appropriate”  since it attracted more attention than my 24/7 collar.

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My old “bling” collar lock – only worn for special BDSM related occasions.

The first munch that we attended was geared towards the younger adults that were involved in the local BDSM community, specifically those who were 30 years of age and under.  At the time of our first munch, abuser M and I both qualified for this only requirement to attend the meeting (I still do).  At the munch we sat around restaurant tables and openly spoke about BDSM topics amongst ourselves.  Attendees came and went as they pleased.  Some people had obviously met before and there was even a munch leader who was in charge of organizing the event each month.  We met a few nice people and exchanged contact information with a various other people that we had met.  Overall the munch felt very awkward and almost forced until I consumed a bit of alcohol and only then was it easier to open up to the other attendees and begin to make connections.

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That wasn’t the last munch that abuser M and I attended but was certainly the first munch that I do remember attending and it marked my memory.  It wasn’t very eventful yet it cemented abuser M’s force over me because he felt even more comfortable displaying me as his property openly in public.  He felt comfortable talking about the subject of BDSM amongst other like-minded people and even confessed to me that he felt like he could fit in a community for once.  Sadly, over time he could not maintain sufficient contact to make many like minded friends in the BDSM community and probably still has not (yet he still claims to actively live the lifestyle).  He is anti-social even in one of the most antisocial communities that I have ever encountered.

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Abuser M once confessed to me that he had always felt alone… after beginning to understand the level of abuser M’s sociopathy, I could not agree with him any more.  People who openly thrive off of the extreme suffering of others such as Abuser M are downright scary.  I rarely encountered people amongst even the BDSM community that I considered as twisted and sadistic as abuser M.  Even amongst extreme sexual sadists, he is a loner and an outcast.

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My Father Used Me as a Pawn; The Golden Toilet – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


I don’t remember much of this trauma but I have held on to this memory ever since the trauma happened when I was 5 years old.  I still do not know to this day if my memory of the traumatic event is complete or not.  Thinking about this day still brings tears to my eyes.  I don’t know where my father went wrong this particular day.  Perhaps he was high on drugs, perhaps he was on a power trip…  I’ll probably never know but I still question to how any father could put his 5 year old daughter through such torment?

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I was 5 years old when this trauma happened and living in Tehachapi, CA with my biological father, my step-mother and my months old half-sister. It was a hot summer day.  There wasn’t much grass where we lived so we would take a dip in the kiddy pool or hang out in the shade to keep cool.  I was obsessed with my little half-sister, like she was my baby doll.  I loved her so much and still do to this day.  On this particular day my father and step-mother were fighting… screaming at each other is more accurate. I don’t remember what the argument was about but I do remember wanting to get away from the screaming.  Objects were being thrown and broken in the house around me and so I decided to sit on the end of my small bed.  Silently and wishing I was invisible.

My father burst into my room screaming at my step-mother who was still in the other room.  Sometimes my father would use me as a pawn to terrorize my step-mother and this day was no exception.  I was sitting on the end of the bed, wishing he couldn’t see me as he proceeded to pull down his pants and urinate all over me.  He completely soaked me in his urine from my head to my waist.  My bed was also soaked in his urine.  I remember feeling as though I had to protect my little half-sister in this situation but I am still unclear as to where she was during this incident.  I don’t remember much more of the trauma other than my step-mother yelling back at my father about how immature his actions were.  As helpful as she thought she was at the time, I now realize she was a huge contributor to many of my childhood traumas, just like my father.

How do I process this memory?  I wish I knew the right answer.  I have held onto the memory, remembering every single sense that my body allows me to recall from that day.  I was terrified and degraded.  I felt worthless and like a pawn.  I was nothing but an object to my father, simply used to manipulate other people.  I meant nothing more to him than a toilet.  At least he would have the courtesy of flushing a toilet.  Or maybe not?  I will probably never know.

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That is all.

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Dear Friend, I’m Here For You. – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


Dear Friend;

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Promise!

Dear friend, you know who you are.  I miss you and love you. At one point we became great friends and I will never forget the bond that we have.  But I haven’t seen you in over a year and I worry about you and your child.

Dear friend, I know that it may be awkward for you to sustain our friendship at this time.  I know that we met through abuser M whom I no longer speak to.  I know that your husband is his best friend.  I know that your husband loathes me.  I know that you still have contact with abuser M through your husband at times and that scares me. Do you remember the incident when you were pregnant and abuser M thrust a knife towards your face numerous times as if it were a joke?  I will never forget the look of horror on your face.  What you felt that night was how I felt every single day I spent with abuser M.  But I know that you too experience something similar with your husband on a daily basis and don’t realize that it isn’t healthy.  I understand.

Dear friend, although I love you and will always be here for you and your child you have abandoned me and my cause.  I remember when you told me that you loved me and supported me and was glad that I escaped abuser M.  I hope that one day I will have the opportunity to say the same for you and your abusive husband.

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Dear friend, don’t worry… I understand why you fled from our friendship.  There are many reasons.  You are terrified. The truth that I confront you with is too hard for you to swallow.  You can’t handle the fact that you know I know you deserve better.  Both your husband and your brother-in-law hate me and you know why.  You do not believe in unconditional love because you have never truly experienced and nurtured it in your relationships.  All that you know in family life is dysfunctional.  You believe that your abusive family life is normal and will never change. You feel hopeless, worthless, abandoned, helpless, loveless, degraded and alone.  I wish you knew that I think the world of you and you are not alone.

holding-hands

Dear friend, do you remember the time that abuser M and I hid a pre-paid cell phone in your front yard bushes because your husband was being abusive and isolated you from everyone by shutting off your phone?  The pre-paid cell phone was my idea of course.  You had no way to contact anyone and you had an infant.  What if an emergency were to have happened?  What if you or your child needed help but had no way to reach anyone?  I could not stomach the thought of that hence the reason for bringing you the cell phone.  I wonder if you ever used that pre-paid cell phone for an emergency or if it is still there hidden in the bushes in front of your old apartment?

Dear friend, do you remember the time that you were ready to abandon your husband?  I will never forget that day.  You packed your car, you had a plan and you were ready to leave. Somehow the hills around your house caught fire before you managed to leave and you ultimately decided that you could not leave your husband.  I still wonder to this day how the fire started and why it started on the day that you were ready to leave.

http://www.contracostatimes.com/ci_23578027/pittsburg-firefighters-battle-grass-fire-near-kirker-pass (Jose Carlos Fajardo/Bay Area News Group)
Contra Costa Times (Jose Carlos Fajardo/Bay Area News Group)

Dear friend, what concerns me the most about the domestic violence that occurs in your home is the lifelong negative impact that it is having on your child.  You know better than anyone else that I cannot and will not tolerate child abuse and neglect.  I will never forget how your child was obviously terrified of it’s father at only a few years old. I don’t even want to think about how your child views it’s father today.  I remember that your child mimicked it’s father’s abusive actions and intimidating facial expressions.  I remember that your husband would feed alcohol to your child.  I witness this abuse numerous times and told you but it never mattered enough for you to leave him.  There was a time however that I fed your child ice cream and you were so upset with me that you did not speak to me for some time.  Think about the irony.

boy-viol2

Dear friend… I plea with you that if you do not have the motivation to keep yourself safe, please try to have that motivation for your child.  Your child is a witness to the terror that you experience every day.  Your child will not forget.  The memories will be stored inside of your child whether it remembers or not.  And your child will act out on those memories later unless you can manage to break the cycle within your family before it’s too late.

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Please be courageous for your child.

Dear friend, I love you very much and understand that you cannot be here for me at this time but please know that I will be ready to stand by your side when the time comes and you need me.  You do have the power and ability to stop the violence in your home.  It is up to you to make the decision.  I had the power to leave and so do you.  When you are strong enough to make the decision to be courageous and leave the abuse once again, you know how to find me.

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Your Friend Forever,

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The Pet/Slave Names Given To Me By Abuser M… – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


I hate my name.  I hate my name. I hate my name.  I hate my name.

My first name is Amber.  Many people tell me that the name is fitting for me especially given that my hair is golden-red.  However, I am not exactly a fan of the name.  I’ve never understood until recently why I dislike my name so much other than the fact that hearing it literally makes my ears buzz and ring.

I’m sure that I am not completely aware of all of the reasons that I loathe my birth name but through my (C)PTSD recovery journey I have begun to recognize that my name conjures up horrific memories from my abusive childhood.  I mistakenly confided this vulnerable information with abuser M when we had first met and I now realize that he immediately seized the moment as a way to take control of me… through my name.

Abuser M instantly took advantage of my vulnerability and suggested that he give me a “pet-name” that only he could call me.  That sounded rather nice to me over repeatedly hearing him call me the name that makes my ears ring.  And so he gave me the first pet-name that I acquired while under his control.  He dubbed me “slutpet”.

SLUTPET - If found call SIR (###) ###-####
My first pet-name & collar: SLUTPET If found call SIR (###) ###-####

He called me my new pet-name lovingly.  I now see the contradiction as a simple oxymoron and one way of many for abuser M to take control of me mentally.  Abuser M created a heart shaped pet tag encrusted with pretty pink swarovski crystals to display my new degrading pet-name for all to see.  The tag was engraved “SLUTPET If FOUND CALL SIR (###) ###-####”.  He attached the tag to a collar that he had obtained on Haight Street in San Francisco and gingerly clasped it on my neck.  I now see how forcing me to wear such a bold and clearly degrading sign on my neck was just another one of abuser M’s manipulative and calculated control tactics.

How original… but I grasped on to the degrading name because I wanted him to love me.  It is now horrifically sad for me to realize that I had prefered to be called slutpet over my birth name of Amber.  After I embraced my first pet-name I knew that I would take on whatever name abuser M would give me.  I now realize that abuser M further used  pet-names as a form of control over myself.

Eventually I was given a second pet-name by abuser M which ultimately became the pet-name that he would regularly call me in private.  At this time I cannot quite remember how or even why he came up with this new pet-name but the name now gives me the shivers.  The second pet-name that abuser M gave to me was “cuntly”.   

Custom
Custom “CUNTLY” collar as well as the first 24/7 collar that abuser M locked on me.

  Of course abuser M called me cuntly as if it were an honor for me to wear his degrading name.  And yet again a custom collar was created for me that clearly spelled out my shameful pet-name CUNTLY.  Abuser M said that this collar was only for “play” and I would rarely have wear it outside.  However, he would often threaten to force me to wear the degrading collar in public as a form of punishment if I had “disobeyed” him in any way…I only wore it in public a few times but those few times were enough to realize that I did not like to disobey abuser M.

I am uncertain why, perhaps it was shame over time but abuser M eventually transformed my pet-name cuntly into a short and less publicly degrading name; he began to call me “c-ree”.  C-ree to abuser M was a more publicly acceptable form of his favorite pet-name cuntly which he would rarely call me in public.  I now see that abuser M realized his horrific treatment of me was rarely accepted in society… unless you are a member of the BDSM community where nearly anything flies.

Another public pet-name that abuser M would frequently call me was “Red”. Yet again, I am uncertain when abuser M began calling me this name but I do know why.  It was my “professional” pet-name.  He believed it was acceptable for him to call me Red in professional situations such as business meetings, events, etc. I even had a personalized email address through his IT consulting business… red@abuserM.com.  Of course his slave, his pet had to also perform as a girlfriend and eventually fiance in public and professional situations.

 I absolutely dislike the pet-name red. Why? Because the name reminds me of Galina Reznikov aka Red from the Netflix Series Orange Is the New Black.

Kate Mulgrew (Galina Reznicov aka Red) from OITNB
Kate Mulgrew (Galina Reznikov aka Red) from OITNB

 After I told abuser M about loathing my birth name, there is only one instance that I can recall where he had called me Amber out loud in public.  The only time that he acknowledged who I really am by calling me by my name was in court where I had taken him at the end of our relationship to obtain a Domestic Violence Restraining Order.  In the court in front of a female judge, he clearly called me Amber. Of course he could not show his true self and call me the names he had always called me so “lovingly” such as slutpet, cunlty, c-ree, or red in front of a female judge.  It almost didn’t even sound real, like I had never heard my name come out of his mouth ever before.  The sound of abuser M saying “Amber” out loud was almost a shock and a blow to my ears… because my name does after all bring up horrific flashbacks.

On the bright side of all of this – because of the abuse that I endured I now have the opportunity to confidentially and legally change my full name to whatever my heart desires. I already have the name picked out but I want to sit with it for a while before I finalize my decision.  It is quite exciting for me to take this opportunity, it will be a chance to renew my sense of self and to become who I want to become without any inhibitions.  I like to tell people that I am simply upgrading my name.  I cannot wait for the day that I am able to accomplish this important step in my recovery.  It gives me something to look forward to, almost as if I have a new future ahead of me.

Hello-my-name-is

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The Cotton Ball Bandit: The Only Dad I Ever Knew. – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


Chris & Samson
My Stepfather Chris & Samson our dog in 1994.

Let me introduce you to Chris, my now ex-stepfather.  Chris is also known nowadays as “The Cotton Ball Bandit”.  Let’s see if I can pull up a few articles for your reference…

KRON4 – Cotton Ball Bandit Convicted For 10 Bank Robberies

&

KRON4 – Cotton Ball Bandit Sentenced To 60 Years In Prison

KRON4 Images of The Cotton Ball Bandit in action.

This is the only man that I really ever knew as a father.  His full name is Christopher Jay Wootton but he is better known as The Cotton Ball Bandit in the Bay Area. Why?  Because he robbed 10 Marin County banks while only attempting to conceal his appearance with a cotton puff beanie.  Or whatever it is called… He has been dubbed The Cotton Ball Bandit whether it really captures his true character or not.


Chris, me and his adopted father. Approximately 1993.
Chris, me and his adopted father. Approximately 1993.

I am now attempting to focus on the positives in our relationship.  Chris is now in prison and will probably stay there for the remainder of his life given that he has been sentenced to 60 years in prison and he is already 63.  I feel that his confinement to a prison only catalyzes my relationship with him simply because I know that he is in a position to ponder and possibly answer many unanswered questions that I have about my childhood.  So far he seems to be honest and genuine in his letters to me.

There is so much that I can and will eventually discuss about Chris aka The Cotton Ball Bandit.  He obviously shaped who I am as a person today and he is an important tool in my (C)PTSD recovery.  For now, I will leave you with a photo that Chris captured of me many years ago.  It is now shockingly ironic given he currently resides in San Quentin State Prison…

Me posing in front of San Quentin State Prison. I was a proud daughter!
Me posing in front of San Quentin State Prison. Photo taken by Chris many years ago.  I was a proud daughter!

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#FiftyShadesOfTruthAndBS #TheCottonBallBandit #CottonBallBandit

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My Feet Still Hurt; The Death of My Glasses – Trigger Alert

Trigger Alert


About two weeks ago I fell into one of the most severe flashbacks that I can remember ever dealing with in my (C)PTSD recovery.  There were a series of events that triggered the intense flashback but I won’t get into that right now.

During the flashback I had realized that my glasses (pictured broken below) were directly linked to one of my abusers who I will call abuser “M”.  The horrific realization immediately disgusted me… and so I decided to destroy my glass.

The result of a PTSD flashback.
The result of a PTSD flashback.

How did I destroy my glasses?  I stomped on them with my bare feet.  Once I realized the connection between my glasses and abuser “M” I knew that I could never look through those lenses again.  And so I decided to therapeutically break them…at least that is how I prefer to describe the tantrum that I was going through while I was stomping on my glasses with my bare feet.

And it was worth it!  My feet still hurt from the after effects of stomping on the glasses with bare feet… but it was worth knowing that I will never look through those lenses again.  Some people may see my tantrum as destructive anger but I beg to differ.  Breaking my glasses was constructive because it has moved me one step further towards my recovery and evolution.

And besides… I have another pair of glasses anyways!  And now I have a great excuse to get contacts lenses.

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Featured post

Lancing the Festering Wounds

I have been told over and over and over again that I need to “get over” and “move on” from my traumas.  It is most painful when I am told this by people who claim to be supportive of my recovery.  I agree to a certain extent and in a fantasy world I would be able to move on over night.  However, there is a difference between moving on and getting over my traumas.  I know that I will never be able to “get over” my traumas simply because I will never be able to forget them and they shaped who I am today.  I am reminded of them in almost every instance of my life.  I am entitled to be angry and grieve what has been stolen from me.  There is no proper timeline for me or any other survivor to move on from our traumas.  I believe that I am moving on at this very moment by forcing myself to process the traumas that I remember.  It is healthy yet painful.

Sometimes I akin recovering from (C)PTSD to lancing a festering wound in your stomach.  It has to be done eventually or else the wound will eventually overcome your body with sickness.  The wound might even suddenly burst open with smelly rotten discharge if it is not dealt with properly.  Once the festering wound is lanced, it will be painful, smelly and disgusting as the rotting discharge releases… but remember that this step to healing is necessary.  The wound will have a chance to heal once the discharge is cleaned away.  There is a possibility that the scars that are left from lancing the wound will be visible or not.

I am simply in the stage of my recovery where my festering wounds are being lanced… and who knows how long the wounds will take to completely heal.  Maybe they won’t.  Maybe I will have scars forever.  But at least I won’t have a festering wound anymore.  

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A Much Needed Update!

Hello lovelies!

It has come to my attention that my blog has grown to become more popular with the recent release of Fifty Shades Darker and with that I am aware that I need to update everyone on my progress and also push forward with more content on this blog.

Here is a brief update on me which I can dive into more in further posts.  The biggest update is that I am no longer crippled by (C)PTSD.  For a while it certainly consumed me.  These days I look back and almost wonder how I could ever be so sick.  But PTSD is very real and it can happen to anyone.  I am so thankful for my personal journey and that I am now where I am today in my recovery.  It took a lot of work and I hope that I can share details with my readers so that they may benefit as well.  Also, I want to thank my readers for their kind support and words of encouragement during some of the most difficult points in my recovery.  I will forever appreciate it and dream that I can also be a source of support for others in need.  And that is why I blog!

I have briefly read over some of my older posts and I am so grateful to say that I have come a long way since many of my older posts.  Some are even shocking to me and I can’t wait to update you on more details of my recovery specific to past posts.

These days I have made my well being a priority in my life.  It has been my best medicine.  I am very physically active and when not moving around I focus my mind on other things that I love such as reading or creating.  While in the thick of my (C)PTSD it was hard for me to do any of this!  Once again, I am so thankful for where I am today and hope that others who struggle will also find light at the end of the tunnel like I have.

Now that I have given you a brief update, I am excited to announce that I promise to be more active in posting.  It was healthy for me to take a small hiatus but I also believe that what I have to say needs to be said and needs to be read.  If you have any questions or topics that you want to be addressed on my blog, please feel free to email me at fiftyshadesoftruthandbs@gmail.com.  I always welcome your feedback and suggestions.

Be well!

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