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Starting a FemDom marriage in the Vanilla Kingdom

History - Hitting Bottom

After Mistress Natalie pushed me aside and my only sources of income dried up, the ugly situation that was my life turned downright nasty.

Since I "needed" crystal meth and had only a small amount of money, I started forgoing utilities and rent.  It wasn’t long before I got my eviction notice.  I thought it wasn’t that bad and that I could live in my truck while I figured things out.  What little sense I had left kicked in and I realized I needed a plan.

Then, something weird happened.  I can’t even begin to explain why the following events happened.  For a short time, I thought it was nothing less than divine intervention.

The day after my "let’s try homelessness" thought process, I got a call from my wife.  I hadn’t talked to her in almost two years at that point and still don’t know how she got my number.  (It was even more fortuitous because the phone was due to be turned off a couple of days later.)  We talked for about 4 hours about our relationship and where everything went wrong.  The day after that, my mother called and offered to pay for me to move back to Chicago.  (She and my wife swear to this day that they had no contact during that time.  It was just fate giving me a free pass back to the straight and narrow.)

I called my wife and asked if she would consider starting to work things out between us if I moved back to Chicago as a show of faith that I was serious.  She said that she wouldn’t promise anything, but that if I was there she would be willing to at least talk about it.  I called my mother back and said that I would be willing to move, but that I was doing so for my wife’s sake alone.  She agreed and said she just wanted to have me home.

Somewhere deep down inside, I knew that crystal was killing me.  I was 6′1" at the time but weighed about 140 pounds, my hair was falling out from malnutrition, and I was making unbelievably bad decisions about my life.  I knew that I needed to quit and figured that a drastic life change might help.

I rented a big moving truck, filled it with my stuff, and hitched my pickup to the back.  I then went to say goodbye to the one friend I had left - my drug dealer.  As we were discussing my move, it dawned on him that I was quitting crystal.  He threw a little extra into my baggie for me (a huge  gesture in drug dealer terms) and then said he really would like it if we stayed in touch.  I looked him dead in the eye and said that it was something that I would really like as well.  We both knew at that moment it was the last time we would ever see each other.

I then started the long drive from San Diego to Chicago.  That’s when fate stepped in yet again to help me change my ways.

On a stretch of desert highway in the dead of night near the border of Arizona and New Mexico, my next life changing event would play out.  I had been driving all day and well into the night.  My crystal high was wearing off, so I was getting a little shaky behind the wheel.  Then, out of nowhere, I saw something run in front of my truck and swerved hard to avoid it.  To this day I don’t know if it was real or a hallucination.  The swerve was hard enough that I started to lose control of the truck.

After a few attempts to get back on the road, I felt the truck start to tip and it crashed down onto the driver’s side, sliding for almost 40 - 50 feet across the desert highway.  I remember distinctly being drivers-side-down with my computer and all the stuff from the cab on top of me wondering how I was going to get out when the world started spinning.  When it was done spinning, I shut off the engine, opened the driver’s door, and staggered out onto the highway.

I didn’t realize it at first, but a semi that was right behind me was blinded by the cloud of dust that my skid caused and didn’t notice my truck in the middle of the road.  It slammed into the bottom of my truck with so much force that it sent my 15′ rental truck airborne, high enough that it righted itself in the air and landed back on its wheels.

Yeah - holy fucking shit was my thought, too.

While most of my stuff was damaged by tipping the truck over, getting hit by 30-tons of speeding semi pretty much vaporized everything I owned.  In some crazy-assed miracle, I managed to survive with a sprained ankle.  (I noticed later that the nails that held the heel onto my right boot were bent and fractured from the force of the impact.  My foot must have been against the floorboard when I was hit.)

I was in serious shock and another trucker came up, found a blanket and forced me to lie down in the road.  Somehow, I had enough presence of mind to refuse to be taken to the hospital by ambulance.  (I figured they would do a drug screening first thing and realize I was high as a kite.)  I caught a ride to a hotel from the tow truck driver.

The next morning, I could barely move and couldn’t walk at all so I called the paramedics and they took me in for x-rays only to find out that I was the luckiest bastard in Arizona that day.  At the tow yard, I picked through the pile of splinters that used to be my stuff and managed to salvage a suitcase full of clothes and a few other mementos.  My dad then wired me money for a plane ticket and I flew home.

Everyone in my family was shocked to discover how horrible I looked.  After some greetings, I went to my new temporary home in my mom’s basement, crawled into bed, and slept for almost three days.

Almost as if a switch had flipped, my life started turning around.  My ankled healed until I only needed a cane to walk (something I was able to wean off of over a few months).  The website I had finished just before leaving San Diego got bought out by the Tribune Corporation and they offered me $20,000 to help them transition the code.  Once I was better, I started looking for jobs and almost immediately found a very lucrative position with a huge global law firm (where I work to this day).  With my newfound financial stability, I was able to get a nice apartment and start to reconcile with my wife.

I made one final bad decision at that point, one that I wouldn’t fully understand until these last few weeks 9 years later.  I decided that I needed to mold myself to the ideals set down by my wife.  I was completely broken and needed to be rebuilt, so why not tailor myself and my personality to everything my wife wanted?  I could be her idea man!

Well, that was really dumb because over the years, I’ve lost track of who I am and what makes me tick sexually.  I’d become incredibly unhappy to the point where I started taking antidepressants just to stop considering stepping in front of every bus that crossed my path as I walked through the city.

My quest to repair myself is still ongoing, but I finally understand my big mistake.  My wife has even acknowledged that she hates  that I’m trying to always cater to her whims.  She wants me to be my own person, but after almost a decade of trying to be something I’m not, I need to find myself again.  Mistress Trecia has been the first person to start to see the real me emerge after all this time and I’m blessed for her help and honored by her commitment to helping me fulfill and protect my inner-most desires.

I hope that with her excellent mentoring and guidance as well as the confidence I’ve managed to find as I grow more comfortable in my own skin, my quest to find the real me will be interesting and enjoyable.  After the ride I’ve been on thus far, the rest of the journey just has  to be downhill.

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