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Fifty Shades of Truth and BS

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

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abuse

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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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 were to believe his words, I would be exposing myself to more vulnerability and confusion.

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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.

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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.

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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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