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Sadistic LoveMy Twenty-Two Year Marriage To A Sexual Sadist
By Deborah M. Mueller
AuthorHouseCopyright © 2009 Deborah M. Mueller
All right reserved.
Once upon a time there was an insecure princess and a charming, powerful prince. This is my story, a true story about what life was like when I gave myself away completely to Adam, and the path he chose to take us down. Had I known where that journey would lead to when I said "I do!" I often wonder if I would have had the courage to turn and run the other way. It wasn't until recently that I have begun to fight for my freedom from him. Twenty-two years ago I didn't know that I was standing on the altar with a Sexual Sadist. Adam certainly did not look like a person who was capable of inflicting pain and humiliation. In all fairness to him, I wonder if he even knew the full extent of his sadistic sexual urges that he would inflict upon his bride. I do not want to believe the foundation of our marriage was solely based on Adam having found someone he could control.
This narrative is about Sadomasochism within the bonds of matrimony. The following chapters contain graphic and crude verbiage in order to fully depict what occurred between the two of us. The language used in this book is not meant to offend, but rather to speak to the true nature of the Sexual Sadism in our marriage. It may beshocking at times, but this was our reality.
What is Sexual Sadism? Sexual Sadism is defined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental and Emotional Disorders (DSM-IV-TR) published by the American Psychiatric Association (2000) as, "The paraphilic focus of Sexual Sadism involves acts (real, not simulated) in which the individual derives sexual excitement from the psychological or physical suffering (including humiliation) of the victim" (p. 573). The DSM-IV-TR further states that:
Some individuals with Sexual Sadism may engage in sadistic acts for many years without a need to increase the potential for inflicting serious physical damage. Usually, however, the severity of sadistic acts increases over time. When Sexual Sadism is severe, and especially when it is associated with Antisocial Personality Disorder, individuals with Sexual Sadism may seriously injure or kill their victims (p. 573-574).
Sadomasochism, commonly referred to as S & M, has two parts, Sexual Sadism and Sexual Masochism. A Sexual Masochist is the individual on the receiving end of the pain and humiliation from the Sexual Sadist. These definitions speak to the unbalance of power and control in this type of lifestyle. Sadomasochism was a destructive force for me, for Adam, and ultimately for our three children.
I have made the decision to share my story for several reasons. This story is my attempt to reach out to other insecure princesses who find themselves trapped in their marriage or relationship, as I did. I wanted so badly to be the ideal wife that I gave away my power. I allowed myself to submit to whatever sexual lifestyle my husband wanted in an attempt to fulfill his needs. I suffered sexual and emotional abuse for years to the point of self-destruction.
I write now in an attempt to open up a dialogue for other insecure princesses who are trapped and can't find their way out. I write as the voice of a survivor. The path out of entrapment is not an easy one but it is worth the struggle. The fight for freedom comes as much from within yourself as it does from outside yourself. You will have to come to terms with the fact that you deserve freedom from the abuse and the abuser. If you do not look inward then you risk getting out from one abusive relationship only to find yourself trapped in another. The goal is to become strong enough to believe you are deserving of a loving relationship filled with light and love, and not to settle for anything less than that goal.
To the insecure princesses, I beg you to take a minute for yourself right now, and listen to your heart. I believe you will find a voice inside of you that may be ever so quiet telling you that you really don't deserve this type of treatment. I have a strong sense that playing the role of the masochist is not what you really desire in a sexual relationship with your partner. You have the right and the responsibility to get yourself out of that role. It is not good for your sense of self-worth to stay involved when it is not a role that is pleasurable for you. You have the right to set boundaries and fully expect that they will not be crossed. You deserve to be loved, not controlled. If you cannot get out of the relationship by yourself, then get help as I had to do. Find the right counselor and end the destructive behavior.
This is also a story for the charming, powerful princes. If you are considering or are currently engaged in a Sadomasochistic lifestyle with your partner, please stop and take a step back to examine your motives regarding why you believe this behavior is needed in your relationship. Make sure she is not sacrificing herself for your love. If you love her, then make love to her, cherish her, and respect her. Otherwise, you will lose her.
This book is also a plea to the mental health professionals to be courageous enough to ask crucial in depth questions regarding your clients' sex lives. "One of Schnarch's breakthrough concepts is the idea that the sexual relationship can be seen as a metaphor for the entire relationship" (Sperry, Carlson, & Peluso, 2006, p. 324). This concept was true in my relationship with Adam. It is vital that mental health counselors find out what is really happening behind closed bedroom doors because Sadomasochism is a secret lifestyle. It is more common than you may think and those taking part won't necessarily just open up and tell you about it. I didn't. I was treated by three mental health professionals during my twenty-two year marriage before I told our secret to the fourth one. This counselor opened up a safe place for me to trust him with our secret by asking the right questions and then following up on my answers.
Why would a person become involved with a Sexual Sadist? I don't believe that a person grows up wanting to be a sexual masochist, seeking pain and humiliation in a sexual relationship. I do believe that being willing to take on the role of a masochist comes out of growing up with a poor sense of self-worth and desperation for affection. My story is no different. I never thought I would participate in Sadomasochistic behavior. I would never have introduced it to my husband, but my ego strength was never strong enough to have said no when Adam introduced it to me. I am not a victim, I am a survivor. I am not a victim because I never said "no" until twenty-one years into our marriage. I am a survivor because I made it out of that dark place and learned to love myself enough to believe I am deserving of a different kind of lifestyle, one filled with light and love.
My story has four phases. The first phase is the story of my family-of-origin and my role within our family unit. This phase will describe the molding that took place preparing me to be drawn to Adam.
The second phase of this story is about meeting Adam and describing the very slow playful introduction into the world of Sadomasochism. His seduction was so gradual. This was not a jump out of the bushes let me tie you up type of abuse on our first date, or second date, or even our third date. That I would have recognized for what it was, and I would have turned and run the other way. Instead Adam masterfully began a journey of seduction and brainwashing which drew me in emotionally and took me so far into the darkness, I felt suicide would be my only way out. During this second phase of my life, I even attempted suicide on several occasions but was unsuccessful. Or rather, more importantly, I was successful in doing what I needed to do to keep myself alive.
I was trapped just like a caged hamster. For years I could not get myself out of the cage. I spent so much time ceaselessly running on the wheel attempting to move forward in some way, but I was unable to do so because I was married. I locked myself into that cage and gave Adam the keys. I took vows to stay in that cage and keep running on the wheel no matter how painful it was for me.
As the gradual involvement into this lifestyle increased I was losing the little bit of self-esteem I had. For years, I was in a state of depression, deluding myself that this behavior was normal marital sex, and the type of attention I deserved from Adam. He never looked like a monster. He looked like an aspiring attorney living the American dream, with a devoted wife and three adoring children. We were the perfect couple with the perfect family; except for our secret which was slowing killing me.
The third phase of my story is about my awakening. It wasn't until twenty-one years into our marriage, at the age of forty-one, that I came to realize my life was worth more than being a sex slave to my husband. I found a counselor I could trust enough with our secret. This counselor helped me realize that Sadomasochism was not normal marital sex, as Adam had me believe. This was the turning point in my life, this was my awakening. Once I experienced this awakening, I began to fight for myself.
Phase four, the final phase of the story, is about emerging into my new life of self-discovery and hope. This new life has taken me to a place that allowed me to meet and trust a gentle man who provides so much of the light and love. This book doesn't just have a happy ending, fortunately for me it has a deliriously happy ending that just keeps getting better as the days go by. But it's the journey to get to this place that holds the key to unlocking the pain for others.
Again, please note that the language in the following chapters may be offensive to some. I apologize, but believe it is necessary for other insecure princesses to see themselves reflected in the words that tell "our" story. If it happened to me, then I know there are others still trapped in sexually abusive relationships. This book is for them.
Chapter TwoThe Beginning
How did two parents raise an insecure princess? That was never my parents', Ruth and Henry's intention. In fact my parents discussed just this topic on the day I was born. Ruth and Henry talked about not wanting to raise a princess at all. They wanted to raise a prince more than anything else in the world, anything! Instead they found themselves with another baby girl.
My parents were older when I was born. My father was forty-three years old and my mother was thirty-nine. The clock was running out for them biologically, they didn't have much time left to make their dream come true, their dream of raising a son.
I was preceded in birth by three sisters making me "Daughter Number Four." The family story told to me, about that day, was that my father went to visit my mother in the hospital after she had given birth. The two of them discussed their disappointment that I was yet another girl. My father only had one sibling, Aunt Sis, so it was up to him to carry on the family name. My birth marked another failed attempt to pursue that dream.
Somehow, my father had a sense that I could be negatively affected by their sadness. He felt it necessary to discuss his concern that they would need to be careful not to ever let me know how disappointed they both were that I was not a boy. In the telling of this story, my mother told me that she couldn't believe my father felt he had to say this out loud, "How could your father possibly think I would resent this new baby daughter once I held you in my arms?" But my father was right.
This story gave me the sense I had failed my family from the moment I was born. If my parents truly did not want me to get the impression that I was a disappointment, then they had a responsibility to not share this story with me as I was growing up. Sharing this story, on more than one occasion, was the same as planting a defective seed inside me that grew through those first years of development. I was flawed from the start.
Two years later a miracle occurred in our family. Our mother gave birth to Rocky. Finally, the son they had waited nineteen years for was born. Everyone rejoiced. It was as if the angels were singing in the heavens above, while a star shown bright over our house in Youngstown, Ohio. Our father certainly did not have to worry that this baby would feel any sense of failure; this baby son would be their saving grace. He was named after our father, but called Rocky because our mother wanted a tough little guy for a son.
My sister Nancy, who was twelve years old at the time, remarked, "Just think, his own room and no hand-me-downs!" That is not all Rocky would be given. He would become the center of our family's universe. Rocky was truly God's gift to our parents, and would be a special blessing for them later on.
Our parents had us "from dating to diapers" as they used to say. Gretchen was the oldest; she was fourteen years old when Rocky was born. Gretchen ruled as the first born. She also happened to be absolutely gorgeous, very popular being voted Prom Queen at the all-girl's Catholic high school she attended, and dated a revolving door full of want-to-be-Gretchen's-date good looking guys. She was legendary in our family for being so beautiful and for being asked to five or six area high school proms in one year. At the age of seventeen, Gretchen left home for nursing school and would never return to live with us. What I knew about her came from the family stories recounted frequently by our mother and father.
Nancy was two years younger than Gretchen. Nancy was purposely the opposite of Gretchen. She was free spirited and not afraid to act silly, even if it embarrassed her older sister. It is always fascinating to hear what words a person is associated with having said as a child. Nancy, according to our mother, was famous for always saying, "Me too, me too," probably because she didn't want to be left out of whatever Gretchen had going on.
Elizabeth was next in the birth order, being "Daughter Number Three." She was seven years old when Rocky was born. Elizabeth was exactly in the middle, five years younger than Nancy and five years older than me. She was the artist in the family and the most athletic of any of us girls.
Growing up next to Rocky was disastrous for me in many ways. Rocky was a true trophy child for our parents; I, in contrast, did not feel I was worthy enough to stand in his shadow. As Rocky was growing up he excelled in sports. Our family life revolved around his sports schedules. Our parents never missed one of his baseball, basketball or football games, and I was taken along to cheer him on. It would never have occurred to either my mother or father to ask me whether or not I wanted to be at these events; it was just assumed I could not possibly want to be anywhere else.
This was not the same reality my sisters experienced. Gretchen left for nursing school when Rocky and I were only five and three years old. I have very few actual memories of growing up in the same house with her. Nancy was ten years older than I, and twelve years older than Rocky. Rocky was seven when he started playing organized sports. By then, Nancy was out of high school, working full-time, and dating her future husband, Rick, so there was not an expectation that she should attend Rocky's games.
Elizabeth and Rocky had a special relationship growing up because of her athletic abilities. Even though they were seven years apart, Elizabeth loved spending time with Rocky out in the back yard playing baseball with him. When he learned to throw the baseball harder, Elizabeth would pad her mitt with sponges in order to continue playing catch and not have to quit because of it being too painful. They spent hours playing together.
I wanted to be able to play catch with Rocky and Elizabeth more than anything, but they wouldn't let me because I wasn't good enough to play with them. I tried so hard, but I was just not athletically gifted. Athletics was tough because it seemed like the harder I tried, the worse I performed. This was important because in our family, one of the rules was, "IF YOU CAN'T PLAY FIRST STRING, YOU DON'T PLAY AT ALL!" I was very aware of not being part of Rocky and Elizabeth's inner circle.
By the time Rocky started playing organized sports, in second grade; Elizabeth was already in high school. She was not expected to be at all of his games, although I seem to remember her attending a few of them. I was the one that was taken to all of Rocky's games. I was present at the games, but not seen. No one knew how I really felt because I never shared my feelings. I kept smiling on the outside. In fact, I was known for always smiling.
Excerpted from Sadistic Love by Deborah M. Mueller Copyright © 2009 by Deborah M. Mueller. Excerpted by permission.
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Table of Contents
ContentsChapter 1 Introduction....................1
Chapter 2 The Beginning....................7
Chapter 3 I Do....................23
Chapter 4 Games That People Play....................35
Chapter 5 Darkness Falls....................49
Chapter 6 Awakening....................79
Chapter 7 Escape....................111
Chapter 8 Freedom....................159
Chapter 9 Safe Harbor....................175
Chapter 10 Clinically Speaking....................205