Her Soliloquy

[mistressmanumit]

IN AN INSTANT, SOMEONE MUST BE BLAMED.

I read an article today about a couple that ran their ship aground locally. The wreck was so impactful that the boyfriend of the injured couple passed away and the girlfriend has a long road to recovery ahead.

What does that look like for them? 'A long road to recovery.'? Will each other's family get nasty and blame one another for what appears by all accounts to be a tragic wreck?

I am to the point where I have just now, almost 5 months after my partner's wreck stopped trying to assign blame. For me, I think it boils down to my not wanting to see that there simply would ever be a way to cast the blame for the suicide attempt. Any which way you transect it, it hurts. So what if his maternal family had a strong genetic predisposition to Personality Disorders? So what if his military career ending at his own hands made him sad? So what if co-parenting with his ex was unfair in his opinion? So what if I'd asked for a separation? It seems like I just didn't want to relinquish acceptance of what he had triangluated our respective families and his command with. The vocalization that I made him what to take his own life. Imagine for just a bit if it had been successful and he last uttered those words to outsiders to your marriage. The ones who didn't know behind their back he blamed them for the same feelings. Would they too have this vast expansive emotion to blame someone for the hurt they're being told they're responsible for? To shield themselves and their ego from the painful possibility that they may have done something slight, that this human took that thing an negatively spun it into a colossal snowball of pain and discontent that made the individual eventually attempt to unalive themselves? Would it be easier to blame someone else? Anyone else? Than to accept that trying to take one's life is NEVER an acceptable outcome for whatever someone is going through. That it's something so caustic and tragic that it rots families through and through....that no ONE particular person is to blame for that act. Just like this boat wreck I just read about.

But will the families of that couple have enough radical acceptance to garner understanding and acknowledge something that heavy can just happen. That assinging blame does nothing for the soured wounds. Deeply lacerating their souls after late nights in ICU Lounges, Early morning reports from a respective attending or the punch to the pocketbook that tends to land around incidents such as these?

Why is having a place to shift the focus of what "caused" such a devastating act so important? Why do we as humans instinctively tend to cast stones at the other home?

I think it's a fundamental protection of one's ego. So to let my ego die, I have to accept that ultimately the only one to blame for my spouse's wreck is the person that was behind the wheel. The person who chose to drive into a pole in lieu of marriage therapy. And I may have said something that left my lips entirely different than a way in which he interpreted and acted out on. The same could be said for someone at his office, or his family...and when you take into account how many interactions a human tends to have with others every single day I think it's easier to take a large step back and set your overweight ego down. THIS WAS NOT YOUR FAULT. TRAGEDIES DO JUST HAPPEN.

And now, now it's time to focus on the healing emotionally. To set boundaries. To offer love and support.

And remember...it's ok to tell yourself as many times as you need to: This was not your fault. It's ok to not be ok. It's ok to demand safety and respect from your partner. It's ok to remove a person from your orbit if they intentionally bring you pain and strife. It's ok to dig deep into therapy and take time apart to heal separately so that a lifelong marriage can work.

For successful gardens to bloom, one must simply grow where they are planted. Cultivate happy thoughts, and happy actions will follow.

#SuicideSurvival #PTSD #Borderline #Bipolar #AntisocialPersonality #AttachmentDisorder #NarcissisticAbuse #NarcAbuse #Narcissistic #NPB #BPD #Overachiever #Boundaries #Survivor #DomesticViolence #ItsOkNotToBeOk #MilitaryMentalHealth #MentalHealth #Miltok

[mistressmanumit]

NO SHIT THERE I WAS:

I had just fancied myself one of those most scalding flesh awakening showers with a 16x16 in rain head. I had stretched. Meditated. And I was going to make today my bitch. I had a tentative date with an Endodontist to perform a root canal and place a crown on a tooth I had previously fractured at the gumline as the after effect of a delightful day of sky swooping gone wrong. My partner at the time was half a world away in Bahrain. The same partner who had, when confronted with my options to either extend a lease 90 mins one way away from him or move back to the Midwest, jumped at the opportunity to rent a place together. He, now looking back, loved the hero role. He loved doing huge grandiose gestures, *cough Love Bombing cough* but if I stepped out of line or displeased him in any way, he had no qualms with reminding me what a trooper he was. How he took a lease out in his name so I could stay out of site and out of mind and focus on my recovery for a multitude of ailments. The most pressing at the time was a recurrence of a lump in my right breast. While half a world away in one of my favorite cities ever, Manama, he insisted on Facetiming me. He wanted to sext and given this deployment being super stressful for him, I tried to oblige. This time I initiated the call but he seemed caught off guard. He didn't finish. Which, for a self-admitted sex addict, was off-putting and worrisome to say the least. Was it me? Was I ugly? I'll admit I felt fly as fuc at the time. I had photoshopped quality dewy locks, sans Photoshop.. my makeup was on point, and I was even able to feel confident enough to wear these absolute age-inappropriate 'mom jeans' that my sister had talked me into sporting. With a Tswift level emboldened red lip and lashes on fleek, I was left perplexed but allowed him to excuse himself.

I left for the dental appointment.

Which for me, was absolutely nerve wrecking. Ever sustain facial trauma and wake up in an emergency dental situation where the sedative and numbing agents didn't take? I had. So this trip was about as fun for me as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

My intuition was gurgling. My stomach was in knots:

WHY DIDNT HE FINISH?!

I underwent the appointment. I was present enough to forego a sedative, because I had just moved to the area and didn't know a soul and needed to get home. After the crown was placed I went home and saw two missed calls on Instagram from a homie down range. We'd previously contracted together and I knew he was in my Narc's general area. I messaged him back and he was brief and succinct given the time difference and urgency of what he bore witness to.

My person who I had been guilting myself for being flawed to the point that I couldn't help him achieve an O face, well he was seen yucking it up in the elevator back from the in hotel 'spa' at the Wyndam Garden in Bahrain. Bragging about the Happy Ending he'd just gotten.

I thanked my friend for bringing this to my attention.

Humiliated, mortified, I did a quick search of his otherwise never seen Credit Card statement online. Sure as shit there it was. A spa charge for the equivalent of 90 bucks.

I called him sobbing.

I told him I knew what he did and he stared at me. DEADPANNED STRAIGHT IN THE FACE AND DENIED IT.

Then I countered with the accumulated facts. This wasn't just my imagination. HE DID THIS. And my former coworker had absolutely nothing to gain from telling me. I know he had been cheated on while underway before, so perhaps he was just trying to keep it real...nevertheless, when I came with irrefutable evidence-he started crying. He apologized.

I told him to enjoy his lovely deployment and make sure not to skimp on the Russian Rooftop Bar SeggsWorkers. Might as well go out with a bang and make it count, because I would not be in what was to be our home, when he got stateside.

I took my embarrassed self back to the bathtub, had a lovely big girl cry and then my phone started going off. My Whatsap and Wikr were dinging incessantly.

COVID? What the hell is Covid? Travel Ban?

OCONUS and CONUS wide? The hell!?

I immediately called dipshit back.

'Find a rotator. I don't care how, or who it takes to get you out (he was due back within the week anyways)

A sniffling and somber 'ok. I will try.' From the other side of the phone. (It was then that I truly missed the ability to slam shut a good flip-phone)

The aforementioned lover made the last rotator out, and denied his commands repeated request to extend. As soon as he was stateside he drove from DFW to Cannon AFB, and through the night to wind up on my doorstep come daybreak-on Okaloosa Island. Sobbing. Flushed red. Flowers in hand as I had already opened the stunning French Doors to the patio/pool.( I'd woefully welcomed the likelihood that this was the last time I would see him, or my dream home for a future I'd foolishly overinvested stock in) he was sitting at the pool. Mouthing 'I'm sorry'.. over and over while gasping for air.

Looking back I can see it was all theatrics.

I'd asked him at that moment in time if there had been any other times.

He stared me straight in the face, and said...'No. This was it. I'll never do it again. I was stressed out because of what you'd spent this month and I selfishly did it. I'm sorry. Please don't go.'

I let him stay.

I was under the impression that he was on post deployment leave.

I was gravely mistaken.

48hrs later or so, late...like...late late...I saw his phone light up. "LTcol M"

I stared at him. I couldn't break my stare. If this was what I thought it was...if the dots connecting were what I thought was about to be vocalized...my hands started shaking

The voice on the other end of the line, a commanding and fatherly-esque tone:

'WHERE ARE YOU? YOU KNOW WHAT? DON'T TELL ME. JUST GET TO THE NEAREST BASE IMMEDIATELY.'

He acknowledged his request, hung up and stared at me. I handed him some food for the road and told him to get the fuq away from me.

The continued lies. The lies by omission..

The next few days and months turned into a hypervigilent attempt to save his career with every favor I had to call in.

He ended up using the same attorney/law firm that a mutual friend on trial around the same time for War Crimes and was very happy with.

For what we shelled out, elated should've been the starting point for our beaming review.

And it was.

Pelatore Law firm went above and beyond.

He should've gotten an Art 32. Possibly a bad conduct...

Instead he received an Art15, failed to promote to Major and had his wings temporarily pulled.

Just writing it down now, it gives me pause. I'm ashamed that I felt the need to advocate for him and clean up his mess. I blamed myself. He clearly wouldn't have gone AWOL if I hadn't told him I was leaving clearly. I was in over my head with the blame shifting..the gaslighting and triangulation between himself, me, and his command.

Clearly he lied.

Oh and duh; there were many other rub and tugs that came to light. I have nothing against the seggs workers that did the acts...it's the harm to my self-confidence and the wanton disregard of putting me at risk for a STD/STI after I'd beaten and overcome BRCA + Gynecological Cancer. Looking back at it, I'm disgusted with how I pandered to his ego.

And here we are, the night or two after our 2nd wedding anniversary...after being released on bail for Domestic Battery. ..where did he venture again? That's right.....another Massage Parlor.

At this point the anger of losing a fully future-faked marriage has fully subsided I'm wholeheartedly embarrassed for him.

So I sit here, nose deep in bubbles (Calgon take me away!!!) Trying to figure out how best to move forward.

Folks: If it walks like a duck, and it talks like a duck....it probably shits like a duck too!

Stay fervent in your own intuition and ALWAYS listen to your gut!!

[mistressmanumit]

MOVE IT A LITTLE FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD:

Well that was unexpected. While I finally took time for myself as advised by my licensed Mental Health Professional, my partner decided to attempt and usurp my healing just the same as his. It was about a full year into our relationship that it hit me like a ton of bricks. I locked myself in the bathroom, hiding in the bathtub as had become customary. I stood in front of the sink trying to not cry too loudly. Trying to be as quiet as possible because if he heard me, then it was pointed out how selfish my pain was. How inconvenient for the grandstanding theatrical melodrama he wanted to hone. It was then, that night that I realized that I was living with a truly Narcissistic individual. A term I do not use lightly. He was at this point all about blame shifting...and the other snakes of his Medusa wig had yet to make their way to the light from the darkness which had become his excuse for 'love'. Where did it all start? On a dating ap. With a lie. He claimed to have been divorced and looking for a best friend. Someone to go on adventures with (you know the type-que the 4runner laden with snorkel (that will never see a creek bed let alone water and mudcrawl) and hipster Selleck throwback 'stache (tolja YUGE Smoky and The Bandit Fan) and puns set to 'full auto'. The type of guy a woman who might convince herself she had most of her shit together, would fall for. Enter stage left: love bombing. It was the very 1st date, and now looking back I can say without a doubt I was being Love Bombed from the jump. I mean the man showed up to the pool at my apartment complex with fancy tacos and a 6 pack of Pacifico. At that particular juncture in dating I'd nearly given up on finding a good match. So I got lazy. I made it completely on the Joe to show up and accommodate my outlandish request (bring me tacos and beer. At my apartment complex pool or don't. And I'll just keep swipping) lo and behold this good looking dude shows up. Tacos and cooler in tow. He was gorgeous and kind. Punny. And told me, like I said, that he was divorced. A father to some amazing crotch gobblins but his ex sounded like a total monster. I know now, that if someone decides to bad mouth their ex out of the gate, that it says more about them than it ever does about the aforementioned lover. That night I told him that I had a toxic ex or two but didn't digress as that was their story to tell. That right there told him I didn't have healthy boundaries. That I likely was more empathetic and prone to try and fix people. That right there was a green flag to him that I would be easy to manipulate. I wish I had some green flags along the way. Shortly after one date we had our 5th, then our 1 month and 2 month anniversary. It was then that I discovered he lied about being divorced. I had found paperwork in his hotel room (he was traveling longterm for work) that was nothing more than an Agreed Entry for terms of a Legal Separation signed by the woman I'd heard him drag by her first name time and again. How she was so demanding. How she was a stick in the mud. How she was a prude. (Language which I allowed to blur my boundaries because I certainly didn't want to be a stick in the mud too) the discovery of this paperwork made me breakdown for the first time. It was then that I realized he could lie effortlessly and directly to my face. It was then that I began to question his motive and what he would tell me.

Why? Because not a few years prior did nearly the exact same thing happen. I met a guy online and he swore he was single with custody of his daughters. Little did I know that both accounts were boldface lies. I felt sorry for his inability to house himself so I lent him my couch. Then it became clear that not only did he not have custody of his daughters, he only had a somewhat consistent relationship with one of them, and that his visitation was very seriously threatened if he couldn't find a place to rent. There I go again...trying to fix a man. It was about a week later that his very much current wife showed up to tell me how scorched Earth she intended on going to prove a point. To this day, the woman stalks my social media and invested money to create a very unflattering website about me. Yep ..a website.

So when I realized that my modern day Selleck had lied about such a huge thing as well, I started to have cold sweats. I started to have horrible indigestion. And just about then my life really started to go off the rails because this dreamboat of a guy's soon-to-be ex figured out my identity and reached out through social media to the very married wife of my professional couch surfer from a few years prior. I should've closed the chapter and written off the losses then. At that point I was left with egg on my face and embarrassment in my gut. Over the next three years Love Bombing would beget Blame Shifting and Future Faking, which would beget Gaslighting and dispatching flying monkeys..and inevitably not only did I end up emotionally wrecked, but I was carrying around a permanent knot in my left shoulder, G.I. issues (multiple Endoscopic Hemeclips placed to curtail bloody ulcers and a daily dose of a PPI and Bentyl..... after my Gastro Doc informed me I had Chrons and IBS. Literally haven't eaten my beloved tacos from Puesto since 2020. To top it off I was diagnosed with an Autoimmune disorder AND had to start taking Xanax for the first time in my adult life. That's right....being trafficked as a child for my mother's drug habit and our rent wasn't enough to ever warrant anxiety meds, nor was being in an emotionally, physically and sexually abusive relationship with the father of my children, or the loss of a small tribe of heroes to their own demons and/or The Global War on Terror. Nope none of that was enough to tip the scales towards the 'ole Xanny-fairy. Just love was. Or at least what he was telling me and my Central Nervous System was "love". The downward spiral really started to hit the fan in the winter of 2021 and by Feb of 2022 he had made his eighth and nearly final unaliving attempt. He was hospitalized in ICU on a vent....the whole nine all because I finally had enough and asked for a divorce. A response that most individuals would cry through, maybe laugh through tears over a bottle of red or a few beers with their buddies ....but his response was his eighth attempt in 18 months. And after multiple inpatient stays and copious amounts of painstaking walking on proverbial eggshells it all came to a head.

And that brings us here...to the very long winded apology at my lack of effort into this book. Don't worry, there was PLENTY more that happened while I stepped away from the keyboard. I learned to love myself again. I discovered a few new passions in life, and what I needed most for clarity: no contact. I'll be back to fill in the gaps .....but for now I need sleep and to take those little PEZ shaped candies my newly befriended Xany Fairy left on my pillow with this evening's turndown service. You'll have to excuse me, just typing this to get the words out, while supposedly cathartic...is also quite triggering. I'll get the story out. One day at a time. Until then, have a nice evening and remember this hard truth: "Some people will never ask for your side of the story because the side that they heard fits the description of how they want to feel about you." -Dr.Caroline Leaf

[mistressmanumit]

Let ‘er rip tater chip!

This is my story. Every line written is my truthful account of the life that I have been so fortunate to live. There will be time hops. There will be grammatical qualms. There will be technical terminology, acronyms and parts of the journey that will likely leave you questioning how I’ve kept my sanity. I’m often told ‘how strong’ I am. I am simply a survivor. This book is dedicated to all of the other survivors who constantly hear how strong they are, all while longing just to be weak...and break for just a moment. Those individuals have my respect, and this is for them...you are not alone. I think back to all the times I’ve been in the room with a mental health professional, or a force of strength that I looked up to.. and been told that I should write a book. So finally I am putting fingers to keys and cranking this thing out. On my terms. Word for word intentionally and justly where I want them. 

Remember back to the book “A Million Little Pieces”? I remember it being all the rage back in the day and people who really knew me saying it sounded an awful lot like my story. But the guy came forward some time shortly after publication and making Oprah’s reading list or something of the sorts and was ousted as a liar.

This: what comes next in these pages...all truth. So buckle up and hang onto your ass Fred! (Huge Smoky and the Bandit fan. YUGE) I hope you can find solace with these words. Perhaps when I rip off this Band-Aid, others can heal right along with me. Try and have a great day, and go give something back to the world today. Also...make sure to take something from it. It’s give and take..just make sure you leave a penny. 

#Autobio #LifeStory #History #YouAreNotYourPast #ItCouldAlwaysBeWorse #Story #Author #Advocate #Feminist #MentalHealth #Survivor #NoFilter