I am Mommy or sometimes Sub calls me M. I call my Sub “A”. He is the one who writes blog entries here. It’s his deep secrets that he exposes for the world to read. To find peace and his own understanding, he also writes as a way to tell me about himself without actually having to speak the words. There has been times in the past that he will say “I am not okay” or “I am not well” and he can’t say it without crying a painful cry. Those words pierce his soul and mind. So it’s just easier for him to write what he wants to say. Reading his writings is a comfort to me.

First off this blog is starting to get a lot of attention. I want to thank everyone for that. I think it makes “A” feel better. Knowing he is not alone or as sick of a monster that he believes he is. Over time his mind has changed about himself. This satisfies me. The blog, Facebook, Twitter and comment section helps him. So thank you.
I want everyone to know a little about me.

Growing up I was a very shy person, I was always in the corner, hiding. Wanting to be away from the center of attention. Which was hard, with flaming red hair pale skin and blue eyes, I was usually the first one people would notice and I hated every second of it. I was the one usually picked on for my hair and freckles by my peers. I would have done anything as a child to be like the pretty blonde and brunettes. They always seemed to be the ones that had the attractive boyfriends. How I envied them.

When I was young my father was always telling me that a girls (or he would sometimes say females) place is in the kitchen, girls are weaker than boys. I have an older brother and my father told me daily that boys are smarter, faster, stronger and better than girls in every way possible. At the time I didn’t realize how much this would change me into the person I am today.
In my teens I began to dislike being told that I was less than men and that men rule everything and it was my place to make my man happy. However to me, that was just the way things were.

So when I was in high school I had my first real boyfriend, one that would last 18 months. One that would make me a little bit stronger. I will call him C. He was a few grades above mine, and two years older. We would hang out all of the time, which was great in the beginning. I thought he was showing love by wanting to spend so much time with me. My parents hated him, which I couldn’t figure out why.

After a little while he would come over to my house in the morning to pick me up. We would walk back to his house, where we would spend the day together. He would then walk me back to my house when it was time for bed. It was such a sweet gesture at the time.

It wasn’t until I wanted to go out with my friends one night, that he showed me his true colors, when things changed. He wouldn’t let me go. I begged and pleaded and finally he gave in. He gave me a set of rules. I had a curfew to be back to his house at an early time. I was only allowed to hang out with certain friends and absolutely no guys. Then when I returned to his house he was angry with me for choosing my friends over him. Mind you this was the first time I had been with my friends in months, because I was “In love” and wanted to make him happy.
That night I began to see that he was controlling me. It wasn’t long before he started yelling at me, becoming possessive and more controlling. At school he walked me to and from every class, not as a way to make sure I made it safely, but to make sure I didn’t stop in the halls and have sex with every boy that walked by me.

One time while at his house I decided I had had enough, I was sick of it at that point, so I left. He came chasing after me, which I thought was nice, to me it showed that he cared. It was when we got to the bridge, and I was telling him that it was over, that he climbed on the railing and threatened to jump. I range of emotions came over me. I didn’t want him to jump and kill himself, So I begged and pleaded and promised him that I would stay. So I did. I stayed, like a fool, I didn’t know any better.

It wasn’t long after that, maybe a few weeks I was again, at his house, he was playing a video game, he was irritated with it. So he threw me on the ground and started choking me. His mother came and and screamed at him. I left, for good that time. It’s strange, I have read that the brain has the ability to make you forget painful memories. I honestly don’t remember anything after him throwing me of the floor and his mother screaming at him. I am not sure if I was driven home or if I walked. Maybe he chased me, maybe I hit him. I honestly don’t remember any of it.

I was just glad it was over, I never wanted to be in that situation again.

The following summer I was at a lake near my mother’s house, I was maybe 19 years old. When a man and his son were in a kayak, they came over to me and we began talking. I will call him P. P was much older, maybe in his 40s. His son, T, was about 10 at the time. P was new to the area and T was just visiting, with his sister, M for the summer. I got to know P and his kids and I began babysitting for him during the days. It wasn’t long before we were in a relationship. Once the kids left for the summer P began getting violent. He was much stronger than me. He was a professional gymnast, so he was very strong, and many times over powered me. One time he was pissed off at me and used his strength to drag me across the room and handcuff me to a wood stove. One of the things that I hate more than anything is being restrained against my will. It fucking enrages me. Now the great thing about being a redhead is that we are notorious for our temper. SO my temper got the better of me and I did the only thing I could do, I became enraged. I pulled and pulled, hurting my wrists in the process of getting out of the handcuffs, the pain enraged me more so once I was out of the handcuffs I ran into the bathroom, where he was and I attacked him. I punched him in the head. He chased me, I grabbed the phone off the wall and struck him again. He tried to stop me, but fuck that I was pissed and there is no stopping me when I get like that. It’s a rage that burns under my surface. I ran to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed a knife out of the drawer and threw it at him. It stuck in the wall next to where he was standing. At the time I was upset that I missed. Now I am thankful. Again, I don’t remember how that ended. I just remember we fought a lot, until it ended.

Throughout my 20s I remained a fiery redhead, but still shy. Painfully shy some would say. It wasn’t until I decided that I was going to become a police officer that I had to face the shyness. I remember in 2003 I had a phone conversation with a friend of one of my friends, he worked for the FBI. I was explaining how low my confidence was and how I felt beneath everyone. With the conversation that ensued, I had an A-Ha moment. He told me 3 things. He said this:

  1. No matter what class I take, or who I was with, I needed to realize that I belong in that class and I was to learn everything I could.
  2. Look everyone in the eye and NEVER, EVER look down. Which after having that conversation, I realized I always looked down after making brief eye contact.
  3. I needed to start holding my chin up, tilted a little more than normal. That will fake confidence. You have to fake it until you make it.

With that conversation, everything changed for me. I didn’t just hear his words. I followed his advice. I began walking with my chin tilted up, I made direct eye contact and dammit I took every class I could sign up for. It made all the difference. People began reacting differently to me. Men started looking at me differently. I began to voice my opinions and ideas. For the first time in 27 years, I became confident. I realized the power my confidence had.

I became a police officer. I believe my biggest reason for doing so is because I am a defiant redhead. My father told me it was a man’s job. That was my biggest reason for doing it. He had pushed me into the same person he thought was better than me. I began to think like a man. My entire life I was a tomboy because I wanted my father to love me as much as he loved my brother. I wanted him to approve and in my eyes the only way I could do that was to be like a man. How do you act like a man? Gain confidence, have a “Man’s only” career, become vocal and opinionated and that’s exactly what I did. It’s who I am today and I actually thank my father and two abusive ex boyfriends for making me the way I am today.

This is where my confidence and the natural domination came from. Knowing that I have to be better than men, stronger, faster and smarter than men. The funny thing now is that there is nothing in the world that would make me want to trade my red hair. Brunettes and blondes may be fun, but redheads are unforgettable!

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