New Year, New Start

Dear  my lovely WordPress family!

May I please ask a favour from you? New Year, new start – could you kindly vote for me to become the face of Le Keux Cosmetics for 2016? Voting is easy. All you have to do is like this photo in their album of entries on their Facebook page. It would be better if like my photo on their page instead of mine, as your vote will not count on my own timeline. However, please feel free to like my post and to share it too! 😀

You can also vote for me on Instagram – @lekeuxcosmetics
Voting closes on 14th January. The entries with the most combined votes after this date will be judged and a winner will be chosen.
Thank you so much in advance for your support.
Much love. ❤

Happy New Year everyone! x

Financial Abuse

It was very clear that *Steve did not like spending his own money. He would place anyone in a situation where they, like myself, would end up paying for what he wanted. (See “Our First And Second Shopping Trip To The Mall Together“). There was always the promise that he would pay me back, or if we went out for a meal, say that the next time, he’d pay. There were also times where I would purchase an item for myself, and he would want me to tell people that he had purchased it for me…

• By the time I was ready to move to the US, I found messages between him and another woman. The messages were dated back to just when we had started dating, during the ‘Honeymoon’ period, so to speak. She already had a boyfriend she did not wish to leave, but Steve was trying to get her to do just that – leave him. Whilst I was spending money he promised to pay back but he didn’t, for the number of visits I made to go see him, he was cursing me to her, saying I’m high maintenance, I’m moody, I think I’m above everyone, etc. He then went on to offer this woman, who lived in the US, a ticket that he would purchase, for her to go see him in Germany. She refused. Of course it’s easy to guess that he thought me looking through his deceitful messages (as I supposedly ‘hacked’ into his account), was far worse than his own behaviour. His explanation to me was at the time, he didn’t think we would last, nor did he think he was going to fall so deeply in love me me.

• I purchased a bag out of my own money within a couple of months of moving out to the US. Just because he said he liked it, he told me to tell people he bought it for me as a gift. Obviously trying to keep up the pretence – something I certainly said no to. I can only imagine how much it annoyed him that I refused.

• Out of $6,500 I had transferred over when I arrived in the US, there was only $80.00 left. I wanted it in case I needed anything (I was pregnant as the time), but he wouldn’t allow me to get it out of the bank before he spent it, because it was all money we had. This is related to the incident where I was left to walk along the highway at night, in my second trimester (see “Emotional And Mental Abuse“). Yet, when I needed to go to the hospital, or needed food, it was his money (see “It Was His Money Not Mine“).

• The money to pay for mine and my son’s flight was from him claiming for our son on his tax return. Had it not been for this money coming in, I would still be stuck with the wife beating loser. Yet, he told me to tell people that it was a birthday gift from him to me last year (2013). Steve’s portion was eaten up by Montana Child Support as he was and still is in arrears with his daughter.

• He is in Child Support arrears with Max. Despite everything he had put me through, I had told him that he could contribute whatever he could afford, or if he was short one month, to just let me know in advance and he wouldn’t have to worry about making a payment. Luckily, I had already started a Child Support case when I had gone to the US to try to retrieve some of my belongings the end of May last year (2013), unknown to him. (I will go into detail about this in a later post). It was agreed that he would start contributing on July 1st… Yeah, no… it didn’t happen. I waited until July 3rd to ask him what was going on. I laughed when I got his message. Conveniently, he had his wallet stolen and someone tried to break into his car. Yet, what he had actually done, was moved out of the Extended Stay into an apartment, bought new clothes, eating out up to three times a day. He was living, whilst my family and friends were feeding and clothing our son.

• Steve owes me $32,000. At the same time Child Support was discussed, I reduced this amount to $15,000 as he is the father of my child. Again, he could pay back what he could afford. Another reason I reduced it, was because he had the cheek to say I owe him rent as I moved out there to be with him! Being married to me, meant the army was paying him $1,200 for Basic Allowance for Housing (BAH) in Savannah GA, for him to live off post and for us to live together. If not married, he would not have received this money.So, to avoid any bullshit, I more than halved the amount. On July 25th, I noticed he still had not attempted to make payment, so I sent him a message asking him about it. His response was that he will no longer be taken advantage of, so he will not be paying me back what he owes me. I wanted to put some of this money into a savings account for Max, to go towards his education when he’s older. I guess, it’s not going to happen…

• When I returned to the UK last year March, I struggled for as long as I could with no money and no job. I’d paid taxes for nineteen years here, so was entitled to Child Benefit, which is roughly $30.00/£20.30 per week. I told Steve this. He was happy and said “That’s good”. He expected our son and I to live on this, whilst he was living on benefits and Basic Allowance for Housing (B.A.H.) totalling to approximately $667.00/£476.00 per week. His rent at the Extended Stay was $209.00 per week – this price included electric, water, landline, cable, internet and a cleaner once a week, which left him with $458.00 to spend as he pleased. Yet he offered no suggestion on helping me with our son financially, or otherwise for that matter.

• He wanted to come to the UK after leaving the army, so he could claim benefits and not pay for medical. As he said to me, he liked the idea. That would mean I would have to do the following:- Work full time and look after Max. Pay for gas, electricity, TV Licence, council tax; water, rent, phone, broadband, not to mention food, clothes and whatever else was needed. I told him he’d get bored, but he denied this, saying he would fill his time sightseeing. (See “He Wanted Me To Work Whilst He Stayed At Home“). I went to the US to have a life with him and to work, not to chill, try to claim benefits and not do anything with my life. Did he really think I was stupid enough to bring him to my country to sponge off of a system he’d never paid into? I don’t think so.

Money comes and goes, but the thing that bothers me the most about it all, is that he does not make any contributions to his son nor his daughter. Yet, he has the audacity to say his children have his heart. He has sacrificed relationships with both so he can have a life of leisure, whilst he has no care for how they exist. Steve is indeed a narcissist. This is what they do… They only care about themselves.

(*Not his real name)

Verbal Abuse

The barrage of verbal abuse was unbearable. Slowly, but surely, it became the every day norm. Sometimes I’d say something back; other times, I was just too exhausted and weak to bother. Here are a number of things thrown at me by *Steve:

• After yet another argument, he was real mad. Acting all butt hurt, it had gotten to the point where I really didn’t care any more – I was just fed up with his behaviour. As he wouldn’t let me go out for a walk, I’d answer back, which he hated. He’d call me all sorts and swear at me non stop – c**t, f**king bitch, moody, frigid (no, I’m not frigid, I just didn’t want you to touch me you jackass), etc. On this particular occasion, I told him I wasn’t scared of him. Growling and coming towards me, looking like he was possessed by demon, he said “You ought to be”.

• He would yell at me because we didn’t have enough money coming in, due to him spending like there was no tomorrow. Right after having our son, he thought it was my duty to look for a job so I could work straight away. Bearing in mind, he wasn’t working and his intention was to claim unemployment for at least two years and to claim for a disability he doesn’t have, for the rest of his life (see “He Claims To Be Suffering From PTSD To Claim Disability“)… When I suggested he slow down on his spending, he would hurl abuse at me saying  “Here’s an idea, get a job” and “What are you doing with your life? Nothing”. It was heartbreaking because there wasn’t much I could do with a new born, and I’d been working, had a car, etc when I met him. I was apparently “useless” because I didn’t have any of these things now.

• He’d get really mad at me when I wanted to ask my mother for advice (hence the reason he smashed my laptop and phone). I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone our business – what happened between us, stayed between us. At the same time, he’d be speaking untruths to anyone who’d listen. According to him, I was needy and pathetic, and that he wanted a lady but all he got was a pain in the ass.

• He’d call me ugly (see “Abusing Me Whilst Pregnant, He Started To Call Me Ugly“). It was so hurtful. Having run me down into the ground, the next step for him was to really crush me. So much so, I started to believe it.

• Another ‘growling’ session was when he was so angry about something (as usual) and I couldn’t understand why. Telling him so, his reply was “This isn’t angry, you’ll know when I’m angry!” He continued by saying he hated me with all of his being, expressing how much he wish he’d never met me. (Yeah, you and me both…). In public, he’d say I was the best thing that ever happened to him and act like we were the perfect couple. Steve loved to give the impression that he was the loving man he clearly was not behind closed doors.

• He’d threaten that he would take Max and leave because I was a bad mother. To this day, I’m not quite sure what he meant by that, but I did start to question my mothering skills. Again, in public, he’d openly say I was a great mother as well as being the love of his life.

I couldn’t do anything right in his view, but if I said he needed to clear up after himself because I was tired, he’d hurl abuse at me, asking what had I done all day.As long as I didn’t say anything, he felt he was in control. However, he did contradict himself. The times when I did remain quiet, he would shout obscenities at me because he didn’t like the silence. Either way, I’d never be right.

(Verbal Abuse Ads – Creative Director: Andy Greenway & Richard Copping. Agency: Saatchi & Saatchi).

(*Not his real name)

It Was His Money, Not Mine

(*Steve stationed in Germany when he was a US soldier).

During our discussion in December 2011 to have a child, Steve had said he would purchase my maternity clothes, should I fall pregnant sooner rather than later. In fact, he told me I wouldn’t have to work at all. (See “My Green Card Application“). As I was returning to the UK for seven weeks before my permanent move to the US, I figured it was a good idea to have a Contingency Fund. So, within the this time, I was paid for the last of the T.V., Film, Commercials and Corporate Videos work I had completed, sold my car, got my deposit back from the apartment I was renting, got all credits due to me from utility companies (I always overpaid) – it all came to $6,500.00/£4,642.00 A nice little sum for a rainy day.

It all went wrong from the moment I got to the US. I had to pay for his car (see “Paying For His Car And More Lies“); buy a dinning table and chairs so I wouldn’t have to eat off the floor, (when I was allowed to eat, which was very little); buy a sofa as I was sitting on the floor which was making my back worse during my pregnancy; plus more for the household; buy him clothes as he was constantly complaining that he needed some and would discard items after one wear. I ended up with only $87.00/£62.00 to buy my own maternity clothes. When I reminded him of what he had said just months earlier, he said he had no money, so what did I expect him to do. Wow…really? Instead, this is what I was offered:

• I had to walk to the hospital on numerous occasions wearing broken shoes, limping in agony whilst he spent what little money we had on things he wanted, such as cigarettes, cigars and junk food. These were the same broken shoes I would have to use as slippers once I was admitted to hospital to have our son. There was no money for hospital parking for me to attend my appointments (even though prices started at $3.00), nor was there ever enough money for gas/petrol to take me in the first place.

• He’d bought me a $7.00/£5.00 cotton nightdress for the hospital, because I was wearing my pyjamas for hospital visits as well, but it didn’t last long. Upon leaving the hospital, he ripped it off me because he bought it and we had had a disagreement.

• I was wearing pyjamas on the street as I had no clothes. In fact, I remember a bunch of immature guys in a car ridiculing me for the way I looked. I felt so low. It was at that point I knew I’d really hit rock bottom.

• I was so upset, I found myself wandering and crying in the street. A guy approached me and asked me what was wrong. I told him I’d come from the UK and was homeless and hadn’t eaten. He could see I was heavily pregnant and offered to buy me food. Out of nowhere, Steve approached and told the guy I was over-reacting because there was food at home. You could see the guy didn’t believe him so Steve’s classic one-liner came out “I’m a veteran“. Every time he looked bad, he’d used this line. I was livid. I screamed that he wasn’t a veteran because I saved his career (see “I Saved Him From Being Kicked Out Of The Army“). The guy didn’t seem concerned about him at all; he was more concerned that I hadn’t eaten. The police were called and Steve disappeared.

• My hands were wrinkled and sore from all the cooking, washing and cleaning I had to do for Steve. I remember telling him how terrible I looked and felt, and my hands looked like that of a hundred year old woman! He ‘told me off’ for complaining about my hands, and told me they didn’t matter. Besides, what was the obsession with them? (I was not obsessed, I was merely stating how awful they looked since I gave up a better life in the UK for him).

• He gave me his hand-me-down male clothes which could no longer fit him, as he was getting bigger and bigger from eating too much in front of me, whilst I was shrinking in size, although pregnant, because he would take food away from me, telling me his money bought it. He told me he didn’t need to get me a coat during the winter because he had a perfectly good mac and fleece jacket I could wear… although they were in storage in New York and we couldn’t get to them, as we were in Marietta, Georgia.

• Even when WIC (Women, Infants and Children) started supplying me with vouchers just a week before I was due, to buy staple food such as eggs, rice and milk, he’d have it all. One time, after purchasing twelve eggs with one of the vouchers, he sat in front of me and ate seven in one go. He drank all the juice I was allowed to purchase at any one time. He wouldn’t allow me to purchase brown rice as he didn’t like it, so instead, got tortilla wraps which he promptly threw away, because they weren’t as nice as he thought they’d be.

• I had to buy comforters/duvet sets as we didn’t have any. Something he was supposed to buy before I moved out there. Is it me, or does this go without saying?

• He made sure he always had an allowance each week, regardless of whether bills were paid or there was food for me or not.

• Even when there was only enough money to just about cover rent for the week, he’d still want to go out to eat, and curse me for being responsible, because I felt keeping a roof over our heads were more important.

These are just some of the things that happened to me because it was his money. I never treated him like that when I was earning, and cannot wrap my head around how someone could possibly behave in such a way, and not feel any guilt nor remorse for it.

(*Not his real name)

So… This Is Me! A Major Fan Of Dita Von Teese And Burlesque

To save what (feels like) little sanity I have left, I have decided, it would indeed, be a good idea to not steer away from my experiences, but to mix things up a little. Thank you Amy at Picking Up The Pieces.

I must admit, I am a MAJOR fan of Dita Von Teese. I love her style of dress, and love burlesque in general (not the nude part though!). I was asked to be in a live show a few years ago, but I over slept and didn’t make it. I’m still kicking myself now! 🙂

The amount of fun I had on this shoot is unforgettable. As it was the first time I’d done anything like this, I made sure I had some bubbly so I didn’t feel so nervous. Not to the point I was drunk, but certainly to the point that I thought “Yes, I’m ready, let’s go!”.

Scary to think these photos were taken in December 2009/ January 2010 for my work portfolio. How time has flown. Now I’m a mother, I don’t think this level of confidence will ever come back… not even with the aid of a little alcohol! 😀