Taking Back Control

Well, well, well, wordpress, long time no see. Shall we catch up? Yes. Let’s.

Four months ago, I told my husband, my partner of nearly 10 years, that I wanted to separate. His immediate response was that we should consider changing our statuses on Fetlife to “reflect the fact that we’re now available.” If I ever held out hope that our couples therapy or any work I had put into our relationship could bear fruit, that moment was the death of it. I have never felt more disposable than I did when he looked me in the eyes and said that. I made the decision to move out, and spent the next week looking for a new place.

My friend, Summer, whom I had met through the scene, contacted me to see how I was doing. When she heard that my husband had left me pregnant and stranded without our two year old son on Thanksgiving, she asked if I would consider finding a place with her. We signed a lease and moved in together around 3 weeks later. I packed up my two year old, who really had no concept of what was happening, signed the lease on a Friday, and took the keys. The husband took me to IKEA on the Saturday of my move, and acted as though he was thrilled to see me and our son go. I loaded my cart, called my friends to help with cars, and rode to the new apartment in the husband’s car.

“You can’t stay here tonight,” he said to me.

“Sorry?!”

“Well, you have your own apartment now; you might as well start using it.”

I was in shock. My husband was actually throwing out his 7-months-pregnant wife, and his two year old. I never pictured myself having to argue with my husband to allow our son a safe and comfortable place to sleep, but I put my foot down and demanded that he let us stay for two more nights.

I moved in with Summer, and it’s been a slow battle of realising exactly how bad my marriage was. A bit of distance is a wonderful thing; it gives perspective and allows you to see your world from the point of view of an outsider. After living with Summer for only a week, I began looking at my husband through the eyes of my friends, and I saw how emotionally manipulative and controlling he had been. I had to ask myself the question: how had I, a Domme, a PRO DOMME, allowed myself to be drawn into a place so dark and hurtful?

“You’re very assertive,” suggested one person. “You probably emasculated him.” That thought sounded immediately wrong. “Really, bitch?” I thought to myself, “And how would that even remotely be MY fault? Why is it my obligation to ensure that his boy-bits aren’t threatened by my ability to handle my shit and be a grown-up?”

I don’t know how I managed to lose control of my life so badly, wordpress, but I am so very, very pleased to be taking back control.

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2 thoughts on “Taking Back Control

    • Thank you. I’m not sure how I managed to ignore things like this throughout our relationship. Maybe he hid it until now, maybe I wanted to believe we could somehow make it work. There have been times where I have wondered whether leaving was the right thing to do, but then he’ll do something obnoxious and I’ll go, “Ahhhhhhhh, yes. No, he’s a total douche canoe.”

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