Thursday, January 24, 2013
Just before Yule 2010, I wrote a blog post on another website, titled "why is it the same thing, EVERY SINGLE HOLIDAY?!" Browsing my stats on that blog I realized someone had read it recently, and since I had no idea what it was about, I decided to go ahead and read it.
What I read was a soap-opera-esque account of my last serious relationship. It involved me, ExR who was my parter/Master (it was a BDSM relationship) at the time, his babygirl (whom I was unhappy about him dating), a slave he'd had a previous relationship with (who passionately hated me), slave's vulnerable ex girlfriend who was being chased by a known predator, the friends room-mate, and the room-mate's new boyfriend. ExR, slave, room-mate and boyfriend were all working together across the globe to try and save this girl from the clutches of the predator, which was annoying babygirl, who was in turn stressing out slave and ExR, who were in turn stressing each other out, and me and my son were getting all the flack from it. No matter what I did, things just kept getting worse. My blog describes the events in detail.
The outcome of that particular drama was ExR going into a violent rage, destroying the phone when I tried to call for help and attempting to force-feed me pills and alcohol whilst attempting to OD on them himself with my son, then 2, in the house. This was 2 days before Yule. The following day, I got an apology and a few minutes with him chilling out with no other kinky people in our relationship. The day after that, my son was taken away by social services and placed in his fathers care following ExR's actions. Two days after that, ExR's internet went down, and he attacked me over that, too, then sought comfort by calling slave, who lives in America, a habit costing us nearly £400 a month in phone bills. Whilst he was on the phone to her, I took an 80 pill anti-depressant cocktail with a cup of tea. I spent that night and Xmas eve in the hospital, and Xmas day on the phone to my dad, who was angry at me because ExR wouldn't let dad in the hospital whilst I was receiving treatment.
That's how I spent my Yule and Xmas two years ago. It wasn't until last Yule, a whole year (and another suicide attempt) later that I broke up with ExR and started getting myself better. And the scary thing? ExR is not the worst person I've had in my life. Not by a very, very, very long shot.
Sometimes I think I'm doing badly. Then I remember where I was a year ago, two years ago. I'm doing pretty well, comsidering how rocky my memory lane is.