What Happens When You Give People The Ax?

I must begin by saying, this picture is absolutely perfect. Add quite a few more tattoos, and it could be a photo of me. I even have a similar owl tattoo.

I read an article by Tiffany Sun recently that got me thinking. She’s a fantastic blogger by the way, if you haven’t read her work, I recommend it.

I don’t mention it often, but I have written about studying Stoicism here a bit. One of my brothers introduced me to the philosophy almost two years ago, when I was at one of the lowest points in my life, and it has been quite helpful to me in dealing with personal issues I’ve had for most of my life. I am, by no means, a perfect Stoic, nor will I ever be. But just by studying the philosophy, reading more about it, and attempting to put some of it into practice, I’ve been able to turn around things in my life that had me hanging by a thread.

Before studying Stoicism, I had removed negative people and situations from my life. Oftentimes, it just didn’t stick, or I couldn’t see how the removal of certain people would be a good thing, until I finally gave them the proverbial ax.

They say most women are forever in search of their fathers, but I suppose that I have always been in search of a mother. Mine was essentially just an egg donor, as she had not one iota of maternal instinct when it came to her only daughter. My biological brother was another story. She had maternal instincts, just not for me.

I was lucky in the respect that I did have some family who cared for me as a child, so I didn’t grow up completely abandoned. But I never truly had a mother, or even a mother figure really. That strong, feminine figure to go to in times of need. I did have one good friend growing up, whose mother was close to that, but I wasn’t allowed to spend much time in her home. As an adult, I have figured out that my mother was jealous of how close I was becoming to the girl’s mom. Sadly, it didn’t seem to spark that maternal instinct in her with me, it only made her want to take it away from me in another person.

Just as I found brothers and sisters from other mothers and misters, as we call ourselves, in adulthood, I also thought I found a mother figure as well. My best friend’s mother, who all of her children, even as adults, called Mommy.

She was the mother of 8 children, with 22 years difference in age between her eldest child (my best friend) and her youngest. She was only 15 when she had R, my best friend and married her first husband, so she was more friend than mother. Mommy, R, and I were mistaken for sisters more often than not when we would go out dancing and drinking. Mommy was the life of any party, always dressed in the latest fashions, make up immaculately applied, hair pieces, damn near perfect body. Well, it should have been, her husband spent a mint on perfecting it to HER specifications.

Mommy was Puerto Rican, German, and Domincan. She had the best features of all three, so I never understood why she felt the need to continue to have surgeries, but she did. Constantly traveling to DR or Mexico to enhance her breasts (generally to “perk them up” not enlarge), lift her ass, eventually to have lipo that she didn’t really need only in order to have it put in her ass to make that bigger. I believe now that she was just addicted to the surgeries.

She was a gold digger, her words. She started as an exotic dancer in NYC, where they were all originally from, and with her stunning personality, managed to draw clients away from the clubs and become an independent escort. This was after an 11 year abusive marriage to her first husband, the father of her 4 eldest children. She eventually became a high class call girl, taking only extremely rich clients, until she had only two; who kept her in a very expensive lifestyle.

This is where she was when I met the family. She had a penthouse apartment in Manhattan, I have no idea the cost per month, but it must have been outrageous. Designer clothes, an unlimited travel budget, unlimited spending money, and two men paying for it all.

Neither of them knew about the other.

I had never met anyone like her. And at the time, I was working with an escort agency answering phones. We had NOTHING like that going on.

Mommy wasn’t exactly the mothering type. She and R were more like sisters. Granted, she was there to listen if you needed to talk, there to help financially if you needed her, but she gave more friendship type advice. We became close as well over time. She told me she appreciated my intelligence, my work ethic, and the fact that I didn’t allow my then husband to tell me what to do. She was big on women being in control of their own destinies.

I asked her about this, as politely as possible. I had a hard time understanding it, as the way I saw it, she was completely dependent on the two gentlemen paying her bills.

“Chloe, you’re right, on the surface. But I’m a business woman. These men, they think all I care about are clothes, make up, expensive hand bags, living the life of luxury. And that’s what I want them to think. So they buy all of these things, give me money to buy more. I don’t keep all that shit. I take half of it back or sell it online. I don’t spend half of what they give me. I make sure I have what they think I should in the house, I look sexy for them, I give them what they want. The rest, goes in my account they know nothing about. If the shit hits the fan, I’m ready.”

She was fleecing these guys daily.

Eventually, one of them proposed to her. He was a multimillionaire. She told him she would marry him under one condition. She keep her apartment in NYC, but she wanted to move to Mexico and have something just as nice there. She was tired of the city all the time, but wanted somewhere to be when she came back to the states to see family.

He said yes. He bought them a 2 million dollar condo in Playa del Carmen as their main home, and paid off the apartment in Manhattan.

She still came and went as she pleased. He never traveled with her. She still kept her other client in NYC. He never knew she married.

As time went on, more of her true nature came out. She started berating me for being so close to her own daughter. Excuse me? According to her, R would never serve any purpose to me other than to hold me down. She encouraged me to use my intelligence, as she had, to make a place in the world for myself.

In other words, do whatever necessary, including fucking rich men, to make my way and earn my money.

By this time, I had already met my now husband. We had not been dating long but were already seriously involved. I told her there was no way in hell I was cheating on my boyfriend in order to make money. She laughed at me.

In her world, there was no such thing as cheating if it meant making money. No one was too good to be stepped on in the rise to the top.

Inadvertently, I had found another mother not unlike the one assigned to me at birth.

It took almost a year, from the onset of my realization that I was being used by this woman, plus her “life lessons” speeches, before I was finally able to say, enough. The part I didn’t mention before is, once she moved to Mexico, she left her then 16 year old son, her youngest, and needed someone to be his guardian. Guess who that ended up being?

After a year of taking care of her son, not being compensated, and nearly having my house destroyed by him and his friends, enough was enough. I made a final call to her and explained that she could either fly up and deal with him now, or find him couch surfing at a friend’s house.

Considering he was on felony probation and required to live in my home, couch surfing wasn’t an option.

In the end, removing her and her son from my life was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Their negativity was fucking with my relationship with my now husband more than I realized, until they were gone. It almost ruined my friendship with my best friend. She doesn’t even communicate with them any longer.

What happens when you give the right people the ax? You find freedom and peace that you may not have realized your life was lacking before.

I think, therefore, I write. ccuthbertauthor@gmail.com /Posts may contain affiliate links.

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