Abuse is a cycle

Abuse is a cycle

Posted on September 19, 2021 at 2:59 pm by Bobbinette Carey

Abuse

Abuse isn’t cut and dry. There is an Abuse gray area because abuse is a cycle. It doesn’t start out with a person getting smacked around or raped or emotionally assaulted. No, at first the abuser is charming and everything the victim needs. Most abusers are narcissists and sociopaths. 

Narcissistic abuse: especially when a partner is emotionally abusive, can be very subtle, and narcissists are masters of disguise: gaslighting, manipulating and controlling their victims for their gain.

Sociopathic abuse: Sociopaths are able to read you by your body language, speech, how you dress, and by how you conduct yourself on social media. They are predators who will stalk every aspect of your living until they have understood your deep-set needs. They give you a false sense of security.

Narcissistic Abuse Cycle: Idealization, Devaluation, Rejection. 

It starts out great. “The honeymoon phase.” They are perfect, you are perfect, everything is just perfect! Life is like a perfect hallmark movie!

Then all of a sudden you’re not perfect, you’re far from it… you’re no longer as great in their eyes. You’re worthless and lucky they give you attention. So you start walking on eggshells. 

Then it happens whether it’s sexual, words, or fists. And you are scarred you are broken. You don’t know how you will ever feel fixed from this.

Then they apologize, they show you that amazing person they were before. You’re perfect again! They love you, you are valued to them and you feel warm and safe again and it is the best feeling ever.

That is how they get you. This endless cycle just to feel the amazing feeling of when things are good they are great. And that is what a relationship is right? Ups and downs the good with the bad. So you’re put up with the bad because the good is worth it. Because you did something to deserve the bad and you know if you can just get back to the good it will all be worth it.

Gaslighting is key in this making you believe that you’re wrong. You’re exaggerating things, your memory can’t be accurate and your feelings aren’t valid. You’re overreacting to their behavior and that is the problem. It can’t possibly be that they accept they hurt you. It is your fault for not being able to take a joke or saying something you know will set them off. And you believe this and feel guilty and bad for causing them to feel this way so you work on yourself.

 You try and fix yourself to be the perfect person they want. But you can’t get it right. You keep trying and trying till you no longer recognize yourself and still you try. Because at this point they are your reason for being. They have overtaken your whole existence, how do you leave? Can you? It takes a person seven actual attempts before they can finally leave the abuser.

Being the victim of abuse doesn’t mean you’re weak, it doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means you have empathy, it means that you’re capable of something they could never comprehend.

Many abuse survivors suffer from PTSD. Often times PTSD can be triggered by something as simple as a smell, or even a word. Those triggers can set an abuse victim back into a regressed form of themselves even when it is decades later.

Abuse doesn’t just happen between domestic partnerships, it’s family members who take their kids’ money then threaten to throw them out. It’s the coworker who gaslights you then tells management that’s not what happened. It is wrestling. From the management to the fans to the wrestlers themselves. Who wakes up and decides they want to get their ass kicked for a living? Who decides that they are going to go out there week after week to try and get the praise of the fickle fans? What type of person would break their body over and over again till their spirit and mind and body don’t know harmony unless it is pain? When pain and love go hand in hand how do you break the cycle?

 

She spent years crafting the perfect image of how a female should be in wrestling. Building herself up to be the perfect idol for young women and everybody fell for it. They all believe that Bobbinette Carey was a sweet innocent adorable kind-hearted woman. She knew the lies she had to spread in order to get to where she was and that’s what she had to do. Years and years of this perfectly crafted image that she had put forth held on to it as if there was nothing else more important in the world because this is the image this is the LIE this is what she wanted the world to see but it wasn’t who she really was no because if the world saw who she really was they wouldn’t praise her as they did. It’s mainly why she walked away. She knew that eventually the world would find out exactly who she was and she wasn’t ready for that. Call it fear, call it cowardice, she called itself preservation.

She needed to be different. Ohio female wrestlers were a dime a dozen. You blow your nose there’s Jessica havok! You turn around there’s Angeldust. You go to the grocery store there’s tough Tina. There were many women in this state who wanted to be something. All grabbing for the chance to be different.

 Most were just weekend warriors she knew that couldn’t be her. She knew she had to be different, so she perfectly crafted and manicured spent time money energy creating the illusion, the Californian accent. “Uberly epic!” all perfectly crafted. The name brand clothes, the limousine, all perfectly crafted to give the illusion of something better than she actually was. She knew she couldn’t just be another girl from Ohio, another girl who grew up on the mean streets of Cleveland. That was too common. She needed to be more! She needed to represent more than some stereotype. She wanted to show black girls that you can have money power and have it all. You could be at the top of a business that wasn’t made for you. You could shatter the glass ceiling without compromising values or integrity.

Of course it wasn’t easy. The “sickeningly sweet Mary Poppins sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth.” image she personified. She perfected it, sure it often annoyed her… but fans love it! They ate every spoonful of the lie that she shoved down their throats. Week after week and they asked for more, and she happily obliged!

 All because this meant she was different. She had reached her goal of being more than a stereotype of being a true role model but at what cost? It didn’t matter! The fans loved her, the crowd reacted when they saw her, everyone bought it! So, for close to 20 years that’s who she was.

She wasn’t some oversexualized sex kitten. She showed that you didn’t need to be a sex object in order to wrestle. But we all know sex sells right? Power, now that sells even more. 

Sex kitten females in wrestling were a dime a dozen. Because she could not allow herself to be something common, she had to be different and she knew it. So, because of that she was always pristine. A rather prude of a queen who garnered respect and practically lived as a nun. 

You have to keep up the image, you have to keep up the lie. That’s what she did. Until she felt like she couldn’t do it anymore and she had to leave. Years in her home in isolation raising her daughter. Away from the ring, not even so much as watching anything that aired on tv. She would show up for the Hall of Fame ceremony, she would smile, wave and sit there unaware who most people were in most years names and faces blending.

 If she were smart, she should have quit when she was inducted into the hall of fame. She held the world title multiple times, she was tag championships, she held the LSD title (though no one would remember it.) and she won war games. No matter what anyone said. (Even though they maintain it was Shane Reynolds, he won it.) It was her team who won. She knew that it was wrong to give herself the title, however she had the gift of gab and could bullshit her way out of anything and most of the time did. She convinced people logically awarding herself the title was the smartest thing to do. It was team epic after all; not team Reynolds.

There was one thing she was great at which was bullshitting. She was able to talk her way out of anything tickets, arrests; all because of her sweet image that she is perfectly meticulously crafted for the world to see. 

Sometimes it was almost ridiculous with what she got away with. She loved the adulation. People adoring her people cheering her but then the cheers die down the love turns into a resentment. They cheered and counted when Mario hit her with the wacko meter. She fought Mario over and over til she won and left only to have a mediocre return that she knew her heart wasn’t in. It was best for her to do as most relics of the past did and fade away. Which she had done gracefully for the past few years living in an almost exile of parma. Till the refueled after bottomline. She helped out Scottywood. The feel of her feet in the ring the sound of the crowd, the tingle in the back of her neck when her music hit. It all came rushing back. 

The following refueled would be her night. She was going to give answers and get closer. They were in her ex-husbands home state after all… and he was done. A grumpy old kodger who knew best to let sleeping dogs lie. Finally she was going to do something to distance herself. She was going to show she was done caring about the fans and that Mario Maruko had no power over her anymore. She was going to separate herself from that name in the best way possible, by using the whack-o-meter on a Mario like douche bag. It was her own form of closure. But that was not to be, of course Mario got wind she was in town. Of course his wrinkled old ass showed up to establish He still had control…

_———–_

We see a modest six bed room one and two half bath home in an area known as Parma Ohio. Pink flamingos were in front of houses around this larger colonial style home. This home has berry bushes in the front with a white picket fence. We slowly go inside the home seeing dolls and doll houses and baby dolls all over the place. We hear giggling as we see hall of fame HOW veteran Bobbinette Carey tickling a little girl with pig tails. Her daughter affectionately known as ‘Mimi.’ The little girl was wearing a pink night gown with Disney frozen Ana and Elsa on it. The little girl was lighter skinned with a round face and light brown eyes. She looked almost like a lighter version of her mother. Bobbinette looked slightly different with silver streaks in her long curly hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She wore a soft pink LC Lauren Conrad open-front ruana with fringe detail at the bottom of the cardigan with a gray t shirt under it that says “only good dreams.” The t-shirt hung loosely over a simple pair or black LC Lauren Conrad high waisted leggings. She was barefoot with purple painted toenails that matched her fingernails. She wasn’t as fashionably dressed because she was at home and she was comfortable. The look was just an ordinary mom taking care of her kid. This little girl was smiling brightly and looked loving at her mom. She hugged Bobbinette tightly and tried to tickle her mom. Bobbinette picked her up, looking her daughter in the room eyes as she sighs loudly.

Bobbinette: ok princess pretty M. Time to get ready for bed. You start school tomorrow

Mimi: 5 more minutes!!!

She pleaded her eyes looking larger than sad puppy dog eyes. Bobbinette shook her head from side to side, giving the classic “I’m not buying it.” Mom look.

Bobbinette: You said that ten minutes ago. Mariah Candice Carey it is bedtime.

The little girl pouted as Bobbinette picked her up and put her into her white princess style canopy bed. She tucked the child in and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Mimi: Can I watch a movie?

Bobbinette sighed but this was how they bargained. She grabbed the remote to the mounted Roku tv at the foot of the bed and put on Netflix for the little girl flipping through the choices.

Mimi: vivo!!

Bobbinette: again?

She asked, raising a curious brow at the little girl who seemed excited to watch this animated musical again.

Mimi: Can we get a vivo?

The little girl asked, pointing to the animal on the screen. Mimi then folded her hands putting them under her chin looking as adorable as a child in some cereal commercial. Bobbinette shook her head from side to side quickly closing her own eyes to not see the adorableness.

Bobbinette: Definitely not. We are not bringing a kinkajou into this house. Goodnight mimi. I love you.

Bobbinette walked towards the door of the bedroom and flipped the light off leaving the tv to illuminate the child’s room.

Mimi: love you mama!

The little girl blew kisses to her mom as Bobbinette let the movie play and walked out of her daughter’s room. She walked down the hallways picking up toys and taking them to her toy box. Behind her she heard a jingle and heavy thumps behind her. A big gray 120 lb bull mastiff stood behind her. She looked over her shoulder slowly turning around. The large dog jumped on its back legs putting it’s front two paws on each of her shoulders. The huge dog was face to face with Bobbinette.

Bobbinette: Really Duke? You’re not guarding mimi Tonight? 

She looked over the dog’s face and saw blue eyeshadow and lipstick.

Bobbinette: My poor big boy! I wouldn’t either!! 

She laughed as she snuggled the big dog then gently let him down. She walked to her end table and grabbed a container of baby wipes. 

Bobbinette: You love me no matter who I am. Unconditionally. You protect this house and Mimi. Don’t you, you big potato!

The dog’s tail starts wagging happily. She laughed as she continued to wipe the makeup off the dog. 

Bobbinette: Shhh! Don’t wake the kid up!!! 

She said petting him. She finished removing the make up then patted the side of her leg. He ran behind her happily following her. She walked to a large glass side door and opened it allowing the dog to run outside in the yard. She looked next to the door at a basket of destroyed dog toys and picked up an “indestructible” tire and tossed it to the dog. She closed the door as he ran off to play in the yard. Here she wasn’t some wrestler, not a hall of famer. Just mom. She walked through the house and put her dishes in the dishwasher and started the machine up. A soft humm of the maytag dishwasher started as she walked towards a room off of the kitchen. She opened the door seeing work out equipment and images of herself, former titles she held. Her action figures, every article she had ever been in. Every cover of PWI she ever graced. This was the gym/ shrine to who she was. She turned on the lights and sighed heavily looking over her accolades. 

Bobbinette: Everybody loves a come back story. The redemption arcs for the villains that make you love them..they eat that stuff up. Knowing that they can turn over a new leaf and be changed.

She says as she walks past every picture of herself. She stops and looks at her own reflection in a triple angle mirror. She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants 

 

 Bobbinette: what if I don’t want redemption? what if I just want to be bad? It’s way past due for me. Playing the goody two shoes for decades and decades maybe now it’s time to drop the act and really be me and not care if who likes it and who doesn’t care if people are disappointed because their opinions no longer matter.

She shrugs her shoulders with a confidant whatever vibe.

Bobbinette: How could I do this? How could I ruin an image I’ve spent decades carefully crafting and meticulating? How can I just turn my back on everything including the fan and everything they’ve done for me? Duh, easy I started living for me and it was the best day of my life!

She says breathing a sigh of relief her eyebrows not wrinkled. She takes her cell phone out of her pocket. She sees messages and clicks ok her Instagram which is filled with notifications. She rolls her eyes as she looks through the messages in her DMs.

 Bobbinette: I made you cry because I was doing what I want to do. For the first time in forever sorry not sorry I spent decades living up to the image that you wanted me to be and now because I’ve first do little bubbles you’re all going to cry about it? Pathetic! I’m sorry I’m not Steve from blue’s clues. I’m not here to tell you you still look good, I’m here to tell you you are giant steaming pile of crap and I’m tired of pandering to you. I’m done giving into the toxic dangerous whims of weaker men. Men who are intimidated by strong women. Men who think abuse is love and control is power. All that does it show the world how small they really are for the need to overcompensate. They have to make up for what they lack because…. They know deep down inside they aren’t superior. They are pathetic and holding onto an ounce of power in an attempt to prove you’re better is just a sad miserable existence. Mario is the quintessential model of this existence. My career was epic before him and it will be epic once again.  

She heard barking outside. She walked back through her room out to the kitchen. She quickly opened the sliding glass door allowing the big dog to come lumbering into the house with a loud thud. She closes the door and slides the latches then pulls blinds across the windows closing the viewing to the house. She walks over to a pad hitting on a four digit code before she walks back into the ocean then. She sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

Bobbinette: Scottywood and I were no-brainer. It makes sense, showing that we aren’t who we used to be. It was almost the perfect night in Minnesota… 

She sighs heavily as she grabs a coffee mug. She puts it under her keurig and puts a pod in pressing the start button as her drink is made. Her face looked disappointed.

Bobbinette: say Satan’s name and he appears. I reclaimed my sense of self. I was taking back the power Mario took from me. Mario would hit me with the whack o meter, and made a career off of attacking women. 

She took a deep breath trying to calm herself.

Bobbinette: The support of them counting along every time I was hit by it. The hundreds of women he assaulted and was praised for it…

She closes her eyes shuddering as she remembered the attacks over and over again, each smack as clear as the others. PTSD from that is still prevalent all these years later. The fact that she signed a legend contract and was able to be in a room with Mario last year is a testament to the years of therapy.

Bobbinette: Then the fucker came back just to take away my power I reclaimed. But to the fans I deserved it, in their eyes… That type of love I don’t need! They were so happy to hear my music to see me come out. The cheers deafening. Mario returns to take me down a peg just to still prove that he could. And people had the damn audacity to ask me why I left? Cause the queen went away and didn’t allow herself to be at risk for the dangers of HOW. Cause Marios name seemed to be locked together with mine. In this cruel hell cycle I can’t fucking escape.

She said, shaking her head, her arms went around her to comfort herself. She looked off in the distance as her face looked disappointed.

Bobbinette: Refueled should have been my night. Someone in the back got so bothered they needed to bring back Mario just to handle me cause they didn’t have the balls to try to themselves. 

She scoffs, shaking her head. She remembers her drink she had in her keurig and goes back to the cup. She picks it up cautiously but it’s no longer piping hot. She takes a careful sip, her eyes squinting ahead. 

Bobbinette: Total bitch move. But whatever. … Fucking peasants trying to interfere where royalty shines. I decided to return. Why? Simple, Most of the wrestlers now are a new breed that don’t even remember how we got to where we are. 

She wrinkles her nose, scrunching her face. Her mind filled with all the memories of what HOW was, feeling almost like an old relic of the past. She was someone from yesteryear. She sets her cup down and goes over to the fridge and grabs out a coffee mate pumpkin spice creamer and pours some into the cup. She looks at the color and nods, putting the creamer back into the fridge quickly.

Bobbinette: I am the only woman in the Hall of fame. I am the only black woman to hold the HOW world title. Then I realized several men have won wargames twice. And that right there. That’s the end game. A second war games victory to cement my legacy even further in the HOW annals of history. Team epic 2022 war games.

She says using her hand to gesticulate the marquee vision in her mind. She chuckles lightly with a bit of sadness. She picks up her mug and puts it in the microwave pressing a button as it starts to heat and circles.

Bobbinette: But that is a ways away… and I need to get back to who I was to get to wargames 2022. and it all starts with my first return match. The first match I’ve had in, what 5 years? Good news I am teaming up with a fellow Hall of famer and my friend, the man who convinced me it was time to come back.

She nods her head as she watches her drink warm up. 

Bobbinette: which that’s epic. Scottywood and I work well together. It would have been satisfying to face Mario for the shit he pulled, but no instead we Mike Best and snorlax. 

She takes a deep breath and knows what this means.

Bobbinette: of course I know who the fuck Mike Best is. Lee Best had sex and all of HOW got fucked in the process.

She sighs loudly as the microwave beeps. She takes the cup out and feels the warmth on her hands. She slowly takes a sip.

Bobbinette: Yes, an amazing wrestler who uses nepotism to his advantage. A wrestler who if we didn’t know is a best; we will hear about it all the fucking time. It’s the age old story of: a white guy who comes from privilege; and continues to use that privilege to make sure others who aren’t afforded the same opportunities in life don’t get ahead at all!

She rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her drink.

Bobbinette: As if dude doesn’t have enough he starts calling himself a king. Excuse the fuck out of me? Like really? On God and everything?

She scoffs, shaking her head with annoyance.

Bobbinette: I don’t even think I’ve wrestled “silver spoons” or if I did it was back at the beginning of his HOW career. I don’t remember it’s all a blur. But Scottywood wrestled Mike Best and they beat the hell out of each other. This is my first match back. The man who is number one contender… cause his daddy’s sperm just jumps the line and shits on everyone who earned it. That isn’t my fight though. I’ll go for the titles when I am ready.

She says shrugging her shoulders. Granted the idea of gold was appealing to everyone but if you’ve been there and done that, is it still as appealing? 

Bobbinette: Because Lee didn’t have pullout game; the rest of us are forced to have him shoved down our throats.

She puts her hand to her face rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger. The irritation is plain as day on her face.

Bobbinette: But I should be grateful right? No the fuck I shouldn’t. Because this isn’t doing me a favor, this is an attempt to humble me as usual. Take me down a few pegs in attempts to try and remind me of “my place.”

She sighs then scoffs lightly.

Bobbinette: Throw the old bitch in the ring with Lee’s progeny. Let Mike kick her head into next week. That will have me regret coming back right?

She shakes her head from side to side.

Bobbinette: That’s so not happening. because I have had to earn everything I ever had. In an industry stacked against me and doubled down on the fact I didn’t belong I not only persevere I thrived! 

She takes another sip out of her coffee mug before finishing the sip. She runs her hand through her hair and pushes it behind her head. The feel of a tension headache at the front of her head is pulsing.

Bobbinette: Now won’t talk bad about Mike Best mom. Just amazing she fucked an asshole then had an asshole. Science…and it isn’t Mike’s fault he’s the sperm that won. Science. 

She says logically. This is science, it isn’t his fault he’s the kid of an asshole and himself is indeed a giant asshole. She takes a few deep breaths slowly breathing out. Her own way of regulating her stress through guided meditation. 

Bobbinette: What is his fault is calling himself the king of HOW. People know how to get my attention even in passive aggressive forms I notice. So a hall of famer tag match… it’s a shame there are no tag titles anymore… Mike Best is a lot of things: a self entitled, spoiled brat? Yes. A good wrestler? Damn good, a king? No fucking way! My bloodlines go back to the Tudors dynasty. There is one true royal here and it’s always been me. Just because he has been around doesn’t make someone a king. But I’m sure in that huge contract there was probably some decree from Lee making him king of HOW. 

She goes over to the kitchen counter and opens a drawer fastened with a safety lock. She takes out an essential oil bottle and twists the top and dabs some on her wrist. She puts the bottle away and then smells her wrist and her face relaxes a little.

Bobbinette: Then there’s Steve Solex. The man who is the embodiment of what is wrong with the toxicity in wrestling. Using his fake cries for equality to justify his grotesque behavior and desire to abuse women. And the fans. The fans find humor in this disgusting display because it’s their dream to be able to do the same thing to random women. Which says a lot about the fate of the world when guys get off at the idea of hurting women all in the name of fair-mindedness.

Her face is one of anger and disgust at what has been allowed to take place and disgusted as humor instead of the atrocities that they are.

Bobbinette: that’s the problem with the fans in HOW and wrestlers like Steve. The classic “nice guy” culture. Female turns you down, or says you are a friend then she’s a bitch. Why wouldn’t she want you? You’re such a nice guy! Because female rejection is what makes these “nice guys.” Assholes instead of the fact they were trash all along and trying to prey on women and it didn’t work. And so many of the pathetic fans can identify with that when they send a girl a dm at 2 a.m. saying hey five different times then call her a bitch for not responding. Cause she deserves it right?

She rolls her eyes shaking her head from side to side.

Bobbinette: the psychotic mind set that you think women owe you anything… that is type of fan base Solex has. That is the type of creeps that lead to women needing restraining orders cause no fucking means no!

She said her voice getting louder. Her right eye started to twitch at the thought. She has been in these shoes she had been cussed out by fans for telling them they are fans and her private life is private. 

Bobbinette: and he is in the hall of fame? Of course I know reputations but even that doesn’t fare well. Putting it as a tag match in some way to try and stop what is set in motion. I should thank Triple M for reminding me just how much I dispose toxic masculinity disgusted as hetero normative activity and how epic it will be to show them who the Queen really is and just why the fuck I’m back.

She hears a knock on her front door that takes her out of her intense stare as she looks at the clock then towards the door. She looks through the peep hole seeing a tan woman with dark blonde curly hair and blue eyes. The woman had a button nose with apple cheeks. Bobbinette slowly opened the door looking at the woman who was wearing a pair of black jeans tucked into black and purple boots. Her purple shirt was tucked into her jeans as she had a small silver chain with a triquetra on it with a topaz stone in the center. 

Woman: hey mom… it’s been a while.

———–