Gas Lighting - Tumblr Posts

Uphill all the way

Sometimes I feel like he's right. That I'm crazy. That he is a good man who tried so hard to help me become a functioning adult. That I was just too fucked up to make him happy.

It's a funny thing to be trained not to trust yourself.

A special kind of heartbreak - the one who hurt me for years began seeing someone else. It makes me feel so flawed that I'm not even suited to be a punching bag.

I can smile and turn on the charm and climb on top of your dick five minutes after you called me a useless cunt. I'm so good at at " getting over it " for you; I can swallow my pain and rage for an eternity.

Remembering the time

He berated me for an hour for sauteing the vegetables first when making him an omelette. He told me "Nobody does this!!!" Which is, of course, incorrect since lots of people cook an omelette that way. He found that out by calling everyone he knew trying to shame me.

Should have been a warning. There were many more instances afterwards where I was " weird", "hopeless", or "defective" in who I was, what I wanted/didn't want, what I thought, or how I behaved.

How easy it must be to control someone who believes every thought in their head is flawed.

That feeling in my chest has gone since he found someone new. Since he stopped speaking to me.

The weight and waiting forever for the other shoe to drop.

My breath. He used to tell me it smelled bad purely for the satisfaction of knowing that it made me feel uncomfortable. He'd say it right after I brushed my teeth to make me feel as though my rotten insides couldn't be masked. I'm certain he'd give himself points if he could do it when we were in public.

Four years ago I was struggling with my mental health. I was having difficulty getting out of bed and going to work. This problem was compounded because I was running my own business at the time. In other words I wasn't really making any money because I wasn't making it out the door and didn't have anything like unemployment to fall back on.

This was unacceptable to him. I was being "stupid and lazy" and so I did what I thought I needed to do. I went to my doctor and told he i was struggling. She gave me a script.

I decided I should inform him before taking it; my doctor had advised that there were side effects that may affect him.

He flipped. He screamed that he had no interest in being with a psychologically inept woman . If I wanted to be a useless shell of a human being to at least get myself lobotomized and give him the satisfaction of having a slave.

He asked why I was so weak. Why I thought I could use a mental illness as an excuse for being useless. It was an insult to people with actual problems.

I got rid of the pills. And rejected the opportunity to get my head in order. I just sunk deeper into despair and hated myself for not being better.

I believed what he said about me. Just lazy and weak willed.

The Truth About Money

When I was running after him I was perpetually broke.  I rarely spent a dime on myself, and if I did it was for him in a round about way (a personal trainer, aesthetics, etc).  He blamed my inability to budget and poor spending habits.

About a year ago, I had an experience that first lifted the veil. If you are interested, you can read about it here.  Shortly after that time I cracked down and prioritized saving; I prioritized it even over him because I had realized that I truly was alone.

That was the beginning of the end of his interest in me.  After all, what good am I if I am not bankrolling his interests? He severed contact approximately three months ago. I wish I had done it, but unfortunately that wasn’t the way it went.  

Since we’ve ceased speaking I have, in addition to saving more money than I have ever had for myself ever, paid off the remainder of my student debt, paid off my maxed out credit card, and taken 10% off what I owe on my line of credit.  All the while having a modest social life. 

I am not bad with money. He was bad with my money.  He is bad.

Yesterday

I saw a lawyer this week as he has been hoarding some things that are mine and he agreed to give me.  There’s some money involved.

We had a separation agreement that I absolutely signed under duress.  If I signed, he would work toward taking me back and my money wouldn’t be wasted.  If I did not, he would sell the house for next to nothing, give me as little as he could (nothing if possible), ruin my reputation and disappear. Keep in mind this was at the beginning when I was inconsolable with guilt after what he’d caught me doing.  

So he got everything.  However we made an agreement on a few items, the ones he’s currently holding hostage.

The lawyer estimates my fight to cost thousands in legal and court fees - likely more than the value of the things. She also thinks my claim for the stuff is shaky at best in terms of the law as well.  So I could spend a whole lot of money and still not have them in the end.

In short, I’m fucked.

Me, in November: What do you want for xmas this year?

Him: You don't make enough money to get me anything I'd want this year. Don't get me anything, seriously. Just do me a favour and save money.

Him, on December 24th: ... I don't see any presents with my name on them... Typical.

Me: ... But you said...

Him: You're so selfish. I really can't believe you. You don't deserve any of the things I got you. You're literally the worst.

Humiliation in parts - Part Two

TW - named body parts, and, again, way too much information about me.  Lots of things not tagged again.

He told me that my vulva had a very strong odour, and he made reference to it frequently.  He told me he could smell me sometimes when I was fully clothed.  I was shocked as no one had ever said it to me before.  He guessed they (my previous lovers) didn’t tell me because they still wanted a piece, but they probably told their friends about it and laughed.

This was so humiliating and I became obsessive.  I’ll spare you some of the silly things I did, but I spent hundreds on products.

Eventually I consulted my doctor while I was getting a pap.  I apologized and asked if I could do anything about it.  He looked puzzled for half a second and said “Your ‘odour’ isn’t strong at all.  It’s pretty mild actually.  So, no, I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

I don’t entirely trust my doctor, so while at another clinic some time later I told the doctor there that my partner said I was “pungent.”  “Do they have a really sensitive sense of smell?  You fall on the milder end of the spectrum...”

I decided that the day he made me ask my doctors to smell my vulva was the day to start taking his criticisms with a grain of salt.   

Humiliation in parts - Part Three

TW - named body parts, reference to sexual act.  Too much personal information.  Not enough tagging.  Or something.

On top of my smell, he got on my case about how hairless my vulva was.  If he noticed there was a hair left he would draw attention to it and try to imply that I did not know what I was doing.  

He hated razor bumps or ingrown hairs.  He’d point them out.  He would be grossed out.   He would be turned off. He would stop whatever it was that we were doing so I could “go fix it.”  

He’d regularly ‘inspect’ me before he would proceed with any sort of sex act .  I don’t mean looking at me hungrily, lovingly or longingly,  I mean basically giving me a pelvic exam.  Sometimes I couldn’t even find whatever it was that he was complaining about; I think he was just trying to make me uncomfortable.

If there was any grooming out of place I’d never hear the end of it.

Some old habits die hard, but I'm not who I used to be.