Don't Look Back

Didn’t learn the lesson
Kept going back
Tears hidden behind a smiling face
Pain and shame buried deep down
Be strong
Be strong, she whispered to herself
You’re free
Don’t look back

F*#&in Exhausted, Part 1

I have realized that my entire life has been about proving myself and I am tired. No, I am fucking exhausted.

I'm not talking about just with men. In school, personal life, professional life...in EVERYTHING!

Freshman year of high school I took Algebra 2. There were three freshmen in my Algebra 2 class, everyone else were upperclassmen. My Algebra 2 teacher was also the MESA (Mathematics, Engineering and Science Achievement) advisor. The other two freshmen in my class were male students. Our teacher recruited the male students into MESA way before me, even though we all had A's in the class. I wasn't recruited until the end of the school year when I surpassed the entire class for the highest A in the class.

Fast forward to junior year and there are 5 juniors in my AP Calculus class (the rest were seniors). I was the only junior female. I was also President of MESA and taking Physics with seniors because I opted out of taking AP Biology with the rest of my friends. For the annual MESA Day, we took exams in our respective math levels to determine the teams. (*I should mention my school was on a track system, so for my track there were only 5 juniors taking AP Calc and the other tracks also had AP Calc classes with juniors.) The top three scores made up the team. I came in second. I outscored the two male students from my Algebra 2 class; neither of them made the team. The other two that made the team were also juniors and from a different track.

Up until the morning of the MESA Day competition, they were trying to talk me into withdrawing from the team, including our advisor. The Calc exam was hard and when I came out of it saying it was hard, they all said I blew it for the team. But then, when my two male teammates came out saying how hard it was, then suddenly it really was hard. We tied for 2nd place.

Math was my favorite subject and I was an A student. I struggled with Geometry in the 8th grade, but I was still one of the 3 A's in the class. And yet, I always had to prove myself. I was always talked down to. I worked my ass off for MESA, recruited from all the tracks, kept MESA going; made sure our legacy continued, but it still wasn't enough. We all took the same Calc exam to make the team, but somehow I wasn't good enough. It wasn't until the end of senior year, just before graduation, that our MESA advisor told me the best thing he did was recruit me into MESA.

Similarly, my Key Club advisor wasn't thrilled I was elected President for my senior year. The entire classroom had yelled out my name during nominations and I ran uncontested. I had attended almost every single event since the end of my freshman year, had gone to two Key Club conventions and even served as a voting delegate for one of them, but our faculty advisor had doubts about me. He thought I had too much on my plate. My predecessor had had too much on her plate and we had lost our standing. But going into my presidency, I had prepared for this. I hand-picked my successor for MESA and as a senior, all of my classes were scaled back. I didn't have a math nor science anymore and half of my classes were electives needed for graduation that I should have taken in previous years but couldn't because of all of my advance academic courses. 

Just like my MESA advisor, at the end of the year, as we came back from my last Key Club convention, my advisor told me about his reservations when I was first elected, but that he was proud of me: proud of all the work I had done to put our school back on top in the division and that he knew how hard a time I had but had always taken the high road. (My VP hated me. She had wanted to be president, but didn't run against me and instead made the entire year difficult and did her best to humiliate me as much as possible. I never retaliated. And even though I did all the work, I never presented it that way.) I knew I had won over my faculty advisor when we were preparing for convention and the award nominations forms were released. I was a TA in one of the computer classes and he came in to tell me he wanted to nominate me for outstanding president and for me to fill out the forms. LOL.

And this was high school; where I can easily point the finger to when it started...the breakdown of my confidence.

Alone

The tears roll down her cheek
Silent
She cries herself to sleep
Alone
Always alone

He couldn’t even look at her
He wouldn’t even kiss her
Just a look of disgust as her lips approached his
He moved away

Pushed her away

She couldn’t cry in front of him
It would only make it worse
It would only make him mad
 
He was just inside her
But he couldn’t even look at her
He had come inside her
But now he didn’t want to touch her
 
He left her without a word
Without a touch nor kiss
He was angry
But he still fucked her
Only to reject her
 
The tears roll down her cheek
She cries herself to sleep
Alone
Always alone

Don't Always Believe What's On The Surface

(Post 9 of 9)

I got really good at hiding what I was going through with F. All the pain, all the sadness and fear hidden behind a smiling face. I never talked about our relationship. If I did mention it, it was always brief mentions of how much I loved him and how happy we were; issues worked through, but nothing about the threats, the jealousy nor control. No, all of it was buried deep inside of me.

No one saw the tears. No one saw the cruel words. No one saw the manipulation.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he took over every aspect of my life. I gave him my heart and he used it to break me down, to take control. He used my love against me.

I was so ashamed.

I had always been strong and independent. I thought I was strong and independent. The truth is I always give my heart freely, hoping for acceptance and love in return, only to end up in heartache. I just want someone to love me, someone to share my life with, someone to grow old with.

With every photo I posted, every positive affirmation, I was denying my reality. I was trying to wish a happy life into existence. During the "off" months, I did everything I could to move forward, to live my life. I used those affirmations to remind myself to keep going.

It was easier to fake happiness and strength rather than admit the truth. There were, of course, moments I was happy. When he would leave me alone and I stopped worrying about what he would think, what he would say. I tried to rebuild my life in those months. But then he would come back and wreak havoc. Eyes filled with tears as I rode the train home, crying myself to sleep, even my phone gave me anxiety; afraid of getting a text message from him. How would he put me down this time? What mean thing would he say? What threat would he make?

The truth is, I have always kept things buried inside me. I'm supposed to be the strong one. I'm the one that's supportive, a great listener. Very few people have ever seen me break down. I'm the one that's always there for everyone else. But who's there for me? No one. No one is ever there for me. There is no one I can count on.

So it was easy for F. I wasn't going anywhere: I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. All I could do was put on a happy face and let the tears roll in private. Because really, that's what I've always done.

Seven Years

(Post 8 of 9)

I was with F for almost 7 years.

I stayed with him because I loved him. I stayed with him because I gave him my word and didn't want to be someone that went back on their word. I stayed with him because I didn't think I deserved more.

While writing about F, I also reflected and read over past entries about P and TexasBoy, the other two significant "relationships" of my life. Relationships is in quotations because we were never in actual relationships. I wanted to be with both of them, but they didn't want to be with me, not really be with me. They only enjoyed the sexual pleasure they received from me.

With P, with TexasBoy, with F, it was always the same...if I proved myself to them, they would want me; they would love me. I just had to try harder so they could see my worth. The outcome was always the same, they didn't want me and I ended up heartbroken.

F was an extreme case, but I do believe he loved me at one point and that's what scared him. In the beginning, things he said made it clear that he didn't think he deserved love, that he wouldn't have a happily ever after. And that made me want to show him even more that I loved him, that he had earned my love. And he just used it against me.

The more I excused and justified his behavior, the more I destroyed myself. I allowed him to destroy me. I wanted so much to be loved, to be accepted.

Towards the end with F, I had resigned myself to being alone. I would be locked into this toxic relationship with him because of my promise and the stupid tattoo. I was bound to him. He would never let me go. I still fear him reaching out, but I think I'm free from him.

For the last four years, I have been afraid to admit he was abusive; afraid to admit I was in an abusive relationship. I was so ashamed. But now, writing the words, letting this all out, gives me strength. I didn't deserve what he did to me. I didn't deserve to be threatened and made to feel like this.

When I started working out, I started to feel better about myself. Working out gave me a confidence I had lost a long time ago and I think that helped me be more defiant with him. I will never be thin, but I will be strong.

Global Pandemic

(Post 7 of 9)

When lockdown started, we got back together. Since we couldn't see each other, I did send pics to him. With the global pandemic, it was great for him because I had no reason not to obey. He let me go out for my runs, but other than that, I was home; just how he liked it. The problem arose when two months in, he did want to see me and I said no. We were in a pandemic. For my mom's sake, we were in a total lockdown; plus, I was high-risk too. He didn't like being rejected and I had to be punished again.

Throughout the year, every few months, he would check-in and get angry with me all over again.

As the year ended, I'm the one that reached out to him. Being home had taken its toll on me. My physical and mental health was suffering. I was alone. I was lonely. When I reached out to him, he took a different approach with me this time. He was calm, mature, understanding. He didn't lash out at me. He said he missed being with me. I'm the one that said it was a new year, we could start over, begin anew. I'm the one that promised to obey.

We started out slowly. He told me how much he wanted me and I wanted him too. I would close my eyes and see him. I could feel him inside of me. I was so lonely and he was the only one that could fulfill my need. He's the only one I thought about. I was his, I was always meant to be his.

He was smart about how he got me to start sending pics again. It was my idea. I sent the first one and then he asked for more...and more...and more. I was sending them daily. Did I still have the outfit he liked? A video was sent with that one. I was texting him daily, telling him how much I loved him; how happy he made me. I was his good girl again.

Until I wasn't. 

All I asked for was an acknowledgement. If I sent text or pic, especially if I sent a pic, I wanted a response, words of affirmation. When my texts were ignored, I didn't send the daily pic. In early February, this happened for a week so I stopped sending anything. He was angry and went off on me. I wasn't the same anymore, he said. I was falling back into the mood he didn't want to deal with. I was supposed to provide without question and accept what I was given. I had broken my promise.

This time I didn't reply, I didn't beg for forgiveness. I was tired. I was done.

Everything Changes

(Post 6 of 9)

So for two and a half years. we were on and off. He would be gone from my life for months at a time. When he was gone, I slowly started to rebuild my life.

I started focusing on parts of my life I could control. I was committed more than ever to my workouts and was going to the gym 5-6 times a week. I got more into planning & crafting and joined different groups. I was making new friends, new relationships.

But I always hid this part of my life. Even my closest friends didn't know.

I think Marisela had an inkling of what was going on, but she never said anything. She saw how he affected me when we went to New York. As much as I really liked New York, there was an undercurrent of sadness & anxiety the entire time we were there. He was mad at me for going and ignored all my texts while I was there. He had initially given me permission to go, but as the week approached, it became, "Who are you going to see? Who's there that you want to fuck?"

It's funny how much time he spent telling me no one else would want me and trying to brand me so no one else would want me, but then turn around and constantly accuse me of fucking someone else.

I was so ashamed. I let him do this to me. I walked right into it. I kept justifying what he was doing. He had been cheated on so of course he would have trust issues, he doesn't really want to hurt me, he really wants me otherwise why would he spend all this time on me.

In late 2018, I did end up telling my work wife about him and showed her the tattoo. It's on the side of my lower back so I just have to lift my shirt. I feel marked by the tattoo. How can I ever be with someone else having this on my body? Work wife agrees that I should look into covering it up or having it removed. She tries to remind me not to go back to him, but I've even lied to her. I've been back with him since I told her about him.

He has a sixth sense or something because he always knows when I'm happy; when I'm content with life and things are going well. That's when he'll reach out and disrupt my life. Regardless of the outcome, whether I let him back into my life or he gets angry because I still refuse to obey, however briefly he's back, it always sends my life into a tailspin.

Defiance

(Post 5 of 9)

That's what he would tell me. He would ask me if I remembered how we were in the beginning, how happy I was, how happy we were and when I would reply yes, he'd tell me it was because I obeyed back then. Back then, I behaved how he wanted me to, I did what he wanted, I satisfied him and in return, he gave me what I wanted. But now I was difficult; I disobeyed him. I was more trouble than what I was worth. I didn't give him what he wanted so he didn't give me what I wanted.

For the last two and a half years, we've been on and off. Somehow, I became defiant; refusing to do the things he wanted. He would get so mad. I wouldn't hear from him for months and when he would reach out, it was always the same.

"Who are you with? Who have you been sleeping with?"

His texts were always accusatory. I must have been sleeping with someone else. If I just admitted it, he would forgive me.

My answer was always the same. "No one." He would never believe me.

He'd want me to send pics or videos and I started refusing. I told him I wouldn't until he came to see me, but he wouldn't. I had to prove I was worthy of his attention, so he would refuse to see me. He'd say I shouldn't want to see him because I still needed to be punished; I hadn't been forgiven and I would not like my punishment. We would argue and the cycle would repeat.

For months, I wouldn't hear from him.

At first, I would still try to follow his rules, like my curfew. I was honor bound to him. I had made promises to him and I couldn't break them; I had given him my word. I had promised I would never be with anyone else. Deep inside I still had hope he would see how much I really loved him. I put up with all his threats and said I would take his punishment. Even though he constantly threatened to punish me, he wouldn't come to see me, so to me, it meant that he didn't really want to hit me; that's why he stayed away from me, he did care about me and didn't want to hurt me.

I was so messed up.

Sometimes, when he'd come back, he would be sweet; he would make promises for a new beginning and I would fall back into him. I still refused to send pics/videos, but I would follow all of his rules and demands. He would accept it at first, thinking I would start sending them eventually, but when I wouldn't, he'd get angry. Even before all of this, I didn't like sending them anymore. They didn't do anything for me. I was bored and tired of doing them day after day. What I wanted was for him to fuck me. He said I should be happy he wanted to get off to my videos instead of watching porn.

The End Was Only The Beginning

(Post 4 of 9)

Four and half years in, he said he was done with me. I had committed the ultimate betrayal. I prioritized another man over him.

One of my friends from middle school was getting married and I was invited to the wedding. It meant a lot to me and I had told F when I got the invite and kept reminding him about it. Initially, he had said I could attend, but as the wedding date approached, he wasn't so sure anymore. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't let me go. My friend is gay. He was marrying another man. Aside from family, most of the attendees were going to be gay men. I wasn't going to cheat on him with a gay man.

The week of the wedding, he put his foot down and said I couldn't go. I kept pleading and it would just anger him. So I lied. The day of the wedding, I told him I was at the gym when I was getting my hair done. Before I left the house, I sent him a quick boob shot to tie him over. While I was on the train, he wanted to see more, so I told him I wasn't feeling good and in bed. He knew I was lying. He wanted a pic and I wouldn't send him one. I was sitting in the church when he sent the last message calling me a bunch of names and saying he knew I was at the wedding. I ignored him for the rest of the night, but I was miserable inside.

The next day I admitted to going to the wedding. I didn't have anything to lose at that point. Admitting it just made things worse and while he said he was done with me, he wasn't. No, when he "broke up" with me is when everything got worse.

To be honest, it's not like I took the break up well. I cried and begged him not to leave me. I told him I would be good. I would obey. I tried explaining how much it meant to me to go to my friend's wedding. I agreed that I shouldn't have lied to him.

He double downed on all the rules. Constant check-ins. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere besides work, the gym, or family-related. He once gave me permission to go to my cousin's house in Fontana, but I had to check-in once an hour and send a naked pic each time. Do you know how embarrassing it was to have to go to the bathroom every hour in order to text him a naked pic?

I had to send him naked videos every night. I still had a curfew and the video had to be sent within an hour of getting home. He would get angry if I took too long with the video. Every morning, when I woke up I had to immediately text him a morning greeting and tell him how much I loved him.

He would reiterate that I belonged to him. He owned me and since I broke the rules, I deserved to be punished. I had to submit to be punished. He never hit me. He would just threaten to hit me. The more I "messed up," the more he threatened. If I even thought about leaving him, he threatened me. He said he would kill whomever I left him for and that he would beat me so bad I would wish he killed me. Other times he did threaten to kill me if I left.

And it was all my fault. If I had been a good girl, if I had obeyed, we would still be happy; I would still feel special and loved. His behavior was a direct result of my behavior. I was supposed to be his solace, his stress relief; I was supposed to please him.

Sex

(Post 3 of 9)

F was always very clear with me. The reason he made me his was that he liked how I fucked him. Our sexual connection was the driving force for his control and jealousy. He said he should have fucked me all those years ago. He regretted not being my first, but he was going to be my last.

As I think about it, F's love language is touch and mine is quality time. Our first two years together, we spent a lot of time together, we had a lot of sex. Despite our busy schedules, we would see each other once or twice a week. We created our own little bubble and fed into each other's love languages.

It also helped that I was completely submissive to him. I'm not talking about "Fifty Shades..." here. He was the man and I was the woman. I didn't raise my voice, I didn't talk back, I did what he wanted me to do. When texting, he insisted on proper sentences; I couldn't just reply, "yes," it had to be a complete sentence. I wore sexy clothes for him. He wanted me in thongs, so I bought thongs. He didn't like "cheeky" underwear, he wanted to see my ass. You know how they say, "A lady in the streets, a freak in the bedroom?" That's how I was to conduct myself with him.

About two and a half years into our relationship, we had our first break-up. He accused me of cheating. We both played a location-based game. I had introduced him to it and helped get him started. I was very active in the game and my username got me a lot of attention, not only because I was clearly a female, but everyone always assumed I got high too. I was really into the game and I was good. The game had a chat and as I mentioned, I got a lot of attention. Most of the time, I ignored the messages because they were teasing about getting high. As I progressed in the game, I would get messages from the opposing team members trying to get me to switch sides. F witnessed one of the exchanges and immediately texted me and accused me of flirting, saying he realized why I liked the game so much. He accused me of cheating and said it was over; he didn't answer my texts for days. Finally, a week later, he text me saying he had dreamt I was on my knees, naked and begging for his forgiveness. To take me back, I had to film myself just like his dream and send it to him. I did it. And then he still made me beg for forgiveness the next time we saw each other. As punishment, he didn't "make love" to me, he fucked me like we were in a porn movie. I felt completely humiliated and debased and I let him do it to me.

There was one other time he was angry with me. I really don't remember why he was angry; what I had done, but when we had sex, I thought we were OK. We weren't. When we had finished, I went to kiss him and he pulled away from me. The look of disgust on his face was a dagger to my heart. He had basically just angry fucked me. We were silent in the car and he still didn't kiss me when he dropped me off at home. That day was worse than the previous time when he punished me with sex.

Don't ask me why I stayed with him after both of those experiences.

I loved him. I submitted to him. Sex was fun and enjoyable for us. Sex was how we connected, both during and after. Sex was how I got into his heart.

He never said he loved me, but I felt it. And I knew when I got too close. That's when he started retreating from me. All of a sudden, it would be months without sex and the fighting would just get worse.

He made more and more demands. I had a curfew. At first, it was under the guise of his worrying about me being on the bus/train late at night, but it was really about control. He had stupid T-Mobile and it was always getting me into trouble. He would start yelling that I wasn't home or got home past my curfew because he wouldn't get my text on time. I'd have to send him the screenshot of my side to prove the time I sent it. Lyft got me into trouble too. For some reason, the Lyft app doesn't show my correct address in my ride history. It will always shows a random 5-digit house number that doesn't even exist.

He never wanted to let me go out. He wanted me to stay at home. I stopped drinking alcohol because he didn't like it. I never hid anything about my life and he knew all my stories. He knew the "Lola" stories from when I was single and we weren't even talking and he would throw them in my face. I couldn't even drink at family parties without him getting upset, so I just stopped drinking.

We'd fight because I wanted to see him more, because I wanted our relationship to move forward. He'd promise to change, to do the things I wanted. One time, he had been out drinking with his friends, and he brought up having a baby. It was shocking to me because, not only was he saying this to me drunk, but he had made it clear he didn't want kids. That's why I was on birth control, so there would be no accidents. I was so conflicted. I always wanted to be a mom, but not like this. I wanted a family and that's not what he wanted. He wanted to knock me up in order to control me. Having his baby was the ultimate form of ownership, as he saw it. His words, "no other man will want you with a kid."

When I said no to the baby, he branded me in a different way. He made me get his name tattooed on my body. Again, so no one else would want me. Only one person knew about it and I made it seem like it was a mutual decision. He was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with so it was OK. I didn't tell her he made me get it. I didn't tell her that he wouldn't do the same for me. No, I tried to be happy about it. It was just another way to prove my love. About a year after, he threw it in my face; said it wasn't what he wanted. He also said he wanted me to get a second tattoo, in a more private area, to really brand me as his. Fortunately, I never agreed to that one.

When he stopped having sex with me, I knew there were others. He couldn't go that long without having sex. F never committed to being faithful to me. I was supposed to be faithful to him. Those first few years, I know he was faithful to me. When he stopped fucking me, I knew he was getting it elsewhere. One time I had let him know I was home and the reply text wasn't for me. The tone was different, the words were different. Honestly, it was a sweet text and it had been so long since he had been like that with me, so I knew it wasn't meant for me. I didn't reply and he knew straightaway he had messed up. He tried to say that he was having drinks with a friend and that friend had used his phone to send his gf a message and sent it to me by mistake. Why would I ever believe him? He was the most paranoid and private person I knew. He would never allow anyone to use his cell phone. By the end of the night, he was angry at me because I didn't believe him.

He only ever admitted to having sex with someone else once. He told me he felt guilty, like he cheated on me, which in his eyes, he hadn't because he was allowed to have sex with whomever he wanted. I was the one that had to be committed and faithful to him. We hadn't had sex in over a year when he confessed to his only "transgression," so we'd already been together four years.