Controlled and suffocating

Mike controls the majority of my life. As much as I’d like to think he doesn’t and that I remain in control of some things, unfortunately upon closer inspection he really does. Whenever you find yourself altering your behaviour, however small, to avoid an altercation, you are being controlled. It has gotten so bad that I don’t even feel comfortable changing infront of him anymore because I feel his eyes scrutinizing me, watching closely what clothes I put on and even which undergarments I choose. I bought new clothes online and had them sent to my work place, for christ’s sake. I hid them and snuck them into the house, all because one, he will get angry if he saw that I bought skirts and dresses and two, he will makes comments about how I bought something for myself rather than him: “I’m the one who needs new clothes. I have nothing. You have tons.” He will say something to that effect to make me feel guilty about doing something for myself over him; for putting my needs/wants before his. I don’t like putting makeup on or doing my hair infront of him because he says things that insinuate that I’m cheating on him or trying to attract other male attention. I haven’t looked closely at myself in months. I miss getting dolled up and enjoying my femininity. It’s like a sin to do so in this relationship. I don’t take the time to make myself look really nice anymore–I don’t put a whole lot of effort into hair and makeup and of course, clothing. I hesitate to even paint my nails. All because I’m afraid he’ll accuse me of seeking attention. The other morning, for example, while I was trying to fix my unruly hair:

Mike: Where are you going?

Me: (Right away I sighed in my head and thought ‘here we go again’). What do you mean? I’m going to work.

Mike: You’re fixing your hair.

Me: Ya…I hate it.

Mike: Why?

Me: Because it’s too long and unmanageable.

He knows very well that I hate my hair this long (it’s to my waist now that I haven’t cut it in two years, since I first met him, because he likes it long).

He also criticized my clothing again that morning:

Mike: What’s with wearing the torn jeans all the time?

Me: I’m limited in clothes I can wear.

Mike: Why? Because your ass is getting too big?

Me: Hah. Ya. (I didn’t mention that it’s actually because I’m not allowed to wear anything else–dresses, skirts, leggings…)

Going back a couple days before that, when he criticized my leggings:

Mike: You wear those leggings too much.

Me: They’re comfortable. (Plus, like I said, I’m limited in what I can wear as it is. I’m down to two pairs of jeans since wearing skirts or dresses would surely ignite an argument. I didn’t say this, though. )

Mike: They’re worn out. They’re see-through. I bet they weren’t like that when you bought them. I’m going to buy you a new pair.

Me: These ones used to be my yoga pants. Back when I worked out. They’re not as bad as my other ones.

Mike: I’m surprised you females are comfortable wearing them. It doesn’t make sense.

Notice the use of “you females” and “it doesn’t make sense.” And my small jab of “back when I worked out” because he makes doing anything like that for myself near impossible. I don’t know how many times we have gone over my “see-through leggings.” It’s a non-stop issue. Just like the phone one. I get more and more irritated but he doesn’t care. And he won’t stop until I stop wearing them. Until he gets what he wants. Or until I become strong enough to leave.

He also got mad because I wouldn’t wait for him that morning. We both travel the same route for most of the way to our jobs, until I exit the highway. I need to leave at 7 in order to get to work on time. He takes his time getting out of bed after I wake him up, so if he’s not ready to go at 7, I leave. I went to leave and he got angry and told me to wait for him, which would make me late for work. But he doesn’t care. Last night he said that he needs to start leaving right at 7 so that he can “watch where I go” when we drive. Again, as if I’m lying about going to work. His grip on me is getting tighter and tighter. In addition to that he now comes home earlier since he found out what time I get home, AND he’s saying he wants to take Saturdays off now. So I will have NO TIME to myself. None. The kicker is that months ago he bitched at me for working on Sundays (I had Saturdays off instead) and I told him to take a Saturday off then if he wanted to spend time with me (and it would be easier for him since he works for himself). He refused, insisting that it was impossible because of his clients. So guess what? I had to change MY schedule. I quit when we moved, and at my new job, I was working Saturdays to make a little extra money while completing an internship. My schedule was then in sync with his. Since my internship is now finished, I have Saturdays off again. Of course, this is not acceptable to Mike. I am alone all day. Who knows what kind of trouble I get into, right? Who knows where I am going, what I am doing. I am a woman, after all, and I must be kept inside and on watch. Heavily guarded.

I am suffocating. Funnily enough, I had a dream last night that I was suffocating. I was with my ex (a non-abusive man) when all of the sudden I started boiling up and losing breath. I panicked, telling him to get my shirt of me because it was too hot and it was strangling me. I woke up with a start, overheating and out of breath because Mike was wrapped around me, literally suffocating me with his weight. I googled what my dream meant and got this (from Dream Moods):

  • To dream that you are suffocating signifies that you are feeling smothered or oppressed by some situation or relationship. Something or someone is holding your back. You are experiencing a lot of stress and tension.


  • To dream that you cannot breathe indicates that you are feeling exhausted.


  • To feel heat in your dream indicates a feeling of shame or embarrassment.

Feels like that dream was more than just a sign. It was a goddamn billboard smacking me right in the face. Literally a wake-up call.


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