Dominatrix By Design Part 4

0076aa_b0d968145b4c4d22ac8ecf1a74377e2a~mv2My daughter was 1 yr. old and I was living back at home. A place I swore I would never go back to again. This was the cold place that reminded me of my painful childhood that was missing all that I needed. It was full of money and materialistic things to fill the void. Full of superficial bullshit and snide comments that were hurled out at random notice. It was classical dysfunction straight from the textbooks. If there weren’t insults bouncing off these 12 foot ceilings, than we existed in complete silence. It was the intense “cold shoulder” technique. No one was immune to it and everyone was fair game.   It didn’t matter who crossed her. If she was disgruntled, we would all pay. She would ignore us all and pretend we didn’t exist. She wouldn’t even acknowledge our existence. If you asked a question, she would coldly answer with a “yes” or “no”. She offered nothing else. We were kept guessing all of the time. I held her coldness in my heart and wondered why she hated me so. What happened and why did she act like that? Oh yes, the cold shoulder coupled with mental illness was alive and well in my upscale home that my father built. The aesthetically pleasing exterior told no secrets of the hated that grew within. The cold shoulder worked for my mother but not for me. But here I was. I was back in hell with my mother and absent father. My mother and I fought constantly about how to raise my child. She was overbearing and I was broken. I was lost and cried constantly over the rejection of the one I thought I would be with forever and she thrived on that. She capitalized on my weakness and took the opportunity to degrade me any chance she had. She kicked me when I was down and she loved every minute of it. I hated where I lived, however I was going to nursing school and I would soon be done. I was fueled by rage and hate. I was going to make something of myself and show them all. A year had passed and I received many late night phone calls of a desperate man wanting his family back. I loved him still. When the phone would ring or if I would intercept the call, I could feel her presence lurking in the darkness behind me. She was always there and always listening. Never could I rest and breathe, not alone. I wanted to try again and should have. My mother forbid it and said she would no longer help with school, me or the baby if I gave him one more chance. I folded, and she won again. I moved forward and never looked back. I began ignoring his calls and I made my mind forget about him. I knew that part of my life was over and never to be revisited again.

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