Act III Broken Open·Illumination·Pain·Passion

Trauma Drama

Fiction. Based on a True Trauma Drama. 34 minute read

Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.

1 Corinthians 13, Verse 6.

This journal entry is inspired by true events. Some of the characters, names, businesses, incidents, and certain locations and events have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes. Any similarity to the name, character or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional. 

Act I: Trauma Drama

Written by MJ, the id voice.

His phone lit up and I picked up the phone to read the message while he was sleeping.

It reads:

“Are you home with your wife now?”

It infuriated me. This bitch. Has the audacity to be sleeping with my man.

A married man.

And even had the audacity of checking in on him to see if he’s home, where he belongs.

What kind of sick, twisted, desperate woman would fuck with a married man?

I started to go down on him while he was sleeping. He was moaning. And right when he was moaning, I called her and kept her listening to the moaning from the pleasure I was giving him.

Stupid bitch, better recognize who owns this man.

He begins to wake up and I ask him if he has been seeing her in a soothing tone.=

He says no, and then you pick up the phone and say to her, “See you stupid whore, my husband is with me. Leave us alone.”

He looked appalled at the set up, as if I had just taken his life savings away. He grabs the phone and starts talking in rapid Japanese. He gets up, gets dressed and started saying to me,

“I told you already that I’m leaving you. What part of that don’t  you understand?” while she was on the other line.

I finally witnessed the criminal in the middle of committing his crime. The charming salesman. The chameleon. The actor. I was already done with him, but I wanted to damage his reputation the way he was damaging my heart. I wanted her to see what a liar he is before I forfeited him to her.

For half a year they had been playing with each other while he was still planning a family with me.

He never told me that he was leaving. If anything, a few weeks ago, he had begged me to come back after I went to sleep at my gf’s house for a week…to give him some space…

“Tell me the truth before you leave.”

He ignored me and started leaving.

A few days ago, he had promised that he would tell me the truth.

Instead, he kept acting while she was on the phone.

“Leave me alone!” He started to leave.

“No! Tell me the truth! If you’re going to leave, and you should, but you promised me that you would tell me the truth. I deserve the truth. I was having panic attacks for the 6 months.”

“You’re crazy. I have been telling you that I’ve been wanting to leave. You tried killing me and I had finally told my parents. I don’t feel safe here.”

He had it all setup. I later found out that he had been siphoning money away. He had concocted the story. And justified what he did on a story, based on a lie.

A few week back, I had put the knife on my wrists and threatened that he tell me the truth lest I kill myself on a standoff only a few weeks prior when he was leaving to go to her home. I insisted on the truth. The truth he would never give me.

Later his lawyer claimed that I was abusive. I was crazy. I was unstable.

The lie festered.

The lie became a spell.

That spell had almost killed me in 2013.

That was my ex-husband’s revenge for all those times I was piss drunk telling him that I didn’t want to be with him anymore, that this marriage was suffocating my higher self, that I wanted to travel but on my own terms–as a writer instead of as a tourist with him. I knew deep down we had two separate dreams. I was leaving him behind on a career dream I had wanted.

That was the seed he had planted to get back for wanting to leave him for the dream I wanted to have. Travel. Photos. Journalism. Writing. Publishing.


“He reminds me of Sonny,” you gush to your friend Amy.

“Why would you want that again?” your best friend asked.

B has been ignoring your texts. For all you know, he could have been with another woman while you were with him, making you the other woman.

Perhaps you chase him because you wanted him to grow some balls the way you wanted Sonny to grow some balls, to work up the courage to tell you the truth:

I am settling for the women who pleases me rather than challenge me.

Besides, you are vengeful, and I am scared that you will ruin my reputation by exposing the truth rather than having the self-control to keep silent.

They smell your investigative journalism spirit.

You already know the truth, but it doesn’t matter that you know. You wanted both of them to spiritually grow, know and confess to you. You wanted their awakening.

But one drowns in Grey Goose and Tonic to drown out the voice that says, “Tell her the truth. Honor Her. Step Up,” and puts his eye on money so he can avoid the responsibility of growing the courage to face the women whom he had let down.

And the other drowns in Chardonnay and expensive reds to drown out the voice that says, “This woman challenges me, has me questioning my belief system, and will push me to walk my higher walk,” and puts his eye on power so he can avoid the responsibility of becoming humble to commit to one woman who will push him towards the greatest version of himself. He doesn’t want the one who calls out the truth when she sees it. Instead, he’s now setting for the women who will provide sweet adjectives to tickle his ear, exercise the serpent energy to wrap her tentacles around his assets, and be his arm candy. In exchange, she will wear away his soul to keep settling and stagnating with her in this version of reality.

Green Eyes had almost married me, but I had broken it off Christmas eve.

He knew I had trauma drama with losing my ex to a Japanese woman, so he ended up marrying and having kids with a Japanese woman.

And what’s more, he wasn’t there when you wound up in the hospital. 51/50. When you were by his side both times. No, it was Lisa, Diana, and your Mom who showed up.

It was not Green Eyes, it was not Sonny, and it was not your dad.

Perhaps in that moment, all three were cuddled up with women who could validate them. Perhaps these women knew how to keep a man. They used manipulation, deceit, and sweet lies while the woman who had my father’s baby showed up at the hospital after my first suicide attempt.

Men who were too addicted to power, attracted women who had the strong Jezabel to enable their hunger for more power, neglecting the women who had held their ground and been there at their lowest and call for their highest potential self. 

“Hey,” he called me out of the blue.

“I have a plastic relationship. All she cares about is the superficial shit. It’s about image, reputation, and stuff with her.”

He longs for my depth.

But he has already betrayed me.

I would never take him back.

Sonny knew that too.

He knew that he had pushed me to a point of no return.

That all I wanted was the truth of who he was.

Who I actually married instead of the image he wanted to create for me so I can continually drink the illusion.

I became a truth seeker since that day Sonny left without giving me the truth.

I wanted him to keep his word, to honor our relationship by ending it on good terms.

To this day, he never owned up to any of it. He’s still floating around in De Nile river, lost among the sea of illusion, that his life is better now, instead of facing the truth that he had been unfaithful, he had lied, manipulated, cheated, and now he is reaping the benefits of what he has sowed.  

Intuitively, you already know that Sonny is dealing with the same type of woman that Green Eyes is dealing with.

A woman who focuses on stuff, image, and reputation.

Perhaps that is why I stopped giving a fuck about my stuff, my image, my reputation.

I stopped caring what other people thought. The labels they put on me behind my back while saying sweet words and making broken promises or declarations in front of me doesn’t fucking matter.

And now, when a woman confides in me and tells me that she is sleeping with a married man, my purpose is to have her consider the wife, the children, and the overall ripple effect of her actions. I will say this firmly and control the fire that is raging inside me to judge her, to slap her upside the head, to shake the daemonic spirit of chaos that possess her body for her to do such a horrid act.  

All in all, I avoid women who are willing to sleep with married or taken men.

There is something completely perverted, sick inside that woman to perpetuate the slow destruction of a love vow.

I’ve met two women who confessed to me. One a Japanese woman, whom I immediately avoided after she had told me that and another an Italian woman. It’s narcissistic to the extreme. Not only were these men married, but they also had kids. They think their actions won’t harm.

Oh but it does. The “mistresses” who fucked with my dad fucked with my understanding of men and women as being completely selfish, dishonest, and manipulative. Of course, you realize that this isn’t everybody, but for the ones who perpetuate with a blind eye, just know that it does affect the children. I am one of the children.

After my mother had finally told me when I was in college what had been happening to her since I was in middle school, I had no longer trusted any businessmen, and perhaps that also had caused me to push Sonny away. I didn’t want his kids, because something had told me that the endgame would have been the same. I looked at my mother and saw the future destiny of me.

I wanted to travel, achieve accolades and pursue my path exploring, instead of staying at home with the kids, having intuitive panic attacks that he was with another woman.

And this was the same intuition I had with B.

Act II: Trauma Drama

Written by Mingjie, written in the Ego.

You immediately ignored him when he came home. He had apologized, but you had alcoholic breath and a deep fire brewing inside your core. You couldn’t even stand to look at him. You had taken down all the married photos of yourself, thrown away all artifacts of

You started doing some investigative work, logging in the hours when he would come home, the flights he took, and then that strange toothbrush in your bedroom after you got back from Hawaii.

And when he left to attend Hawaii to “be alone,” after you had just come back, he had called the resort, and it turns out two people checked into the Hawaiian resort. He had actually landed hours earlier and went to the movies with her. This other woman, being okay with honeymooning with a man who was married.

He is now in the bed and lays down sleeping. You want to slap him, kick him, kill him even, but instead, you go over to him and say to him, “I fucking hate you.”

You fucking hate him for betraying you.

You fucking hate him for thinking you are not enough for him to go fuck with another woman.

You fucking hate him for knowing your deepest fears and making that manifest, and making you feel like it was your fault.

You fucking hate absorbing everybody else’s inquities and making it mean that you deserve it.

“I fucking hate you.”

He wakes up and he starts telling you that he is done with your emotional abuse.

That great manipulator. He makes it about you. It’s now your fault that he’s doing what he does. He won’t admit to the truth because he would know that your words carry reason. It was a cause and effect, but he doesn’t know what you already know. The evidence is self-evident.

You didn’t realize this until much later that you had married a malignant narcissist.

You felt worthless.




Those were the resonated voices in your mind.

Act III. Trauma Drama

By Maya, Written in the Third “I”

Sonny didn’t want to hurt her anymore. He knew he shouldn’t be like his boss’ boss and most of his colleagues. He knows he shouldn’t be like Doda-San, Jorga-San, and Steven who all cheat on their wives and kids. It was normalized and protected under culture. And now he has compassion for those fellow colleagues he judges, because now he is one of them. It’s the wife that makes it hard. The nagging. There’s no passion, no fire, no life force in her.

She will react every time. She will nag every time. She doesn’t listen. She just gives him advice. He’s tired of picking up after her shit. He’s tired of hearing her talk about what she wants to do and not doing it. He keeps encouraging her, but she doesn’t do it and blames it on her.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t deal with the judgements and the critical tongue, the negativity from both work and at home. She wasn’t smiling as much anymore. She keeps drinking and then telling him it is his fault. Her father cheating on his wife is now his burden to bear. She was projecting a lot of her wounds on him, she was hurting, and instead of processing it, going to see professional help for it, she was inflicting it on him. He was his emotional tampon for the past year. She stopped working on their relationship. Just completely let go. She didn’t care for her body, she wanted to stop drinking but he wasn’t going to stop drinking so she could stop drinking. She wanted to work out, but he wasn’t going to stop working so she can work out. She wanted to quit smoking, but he wasn’t going to stop smoking for her for her to stop smoking. She wanted him to do it first before she stopped, but her self work had nothing to do with him. It doesn’t work that way. She needs to stop because she needs to stop. It has nothing to do with him.

He wanted a grown woman. She was reading manga books while he was waiting in line in front of his colleagues during the Grand Prix. She was completely uninterested in his life. At dinner, she kept leaving the dinner table to hang out with her girlfriend. She didn’t want to hangout with his colleagues. She makes him look bad.

The truth is, she doesn’t like the lifestyle he has built. She doesn’t care. He had an image to protect. She didn’t care about that image either. She saw differently. She would 

And then he met a woman who does care. The woman sitting across from him while they were at the dinner table at work. She spoke Japanese. They have a common biracial background. She was an orphan and yet she holds herself gracefully. A real woman. A woman who engages in conversation at the dinner table instead of acting like a child reading manga. He felt like he was with a little sister with Angelie rather than an equal. He keeps giving her the same advice and she never listens and takes action.

Now she is disconnected. She keeps getting up to the go to the restroom and then doesn’t come back. She does not give a shit about his work, his process, and to this day, she still can’t describe what he does. She just uses him as an emotional tampon. He feels like a tool rather than an equal.

Then, she releases a 10 page letter outlining details of his inequities to his parents, his boss, and then his boss’s boss, to shame him. To hurt him. To damage his reputation. She treats him like a naughty child that deserves to be punished. He had asked for her forgiveness the way he had forgiven her every time she would get drunk and abusive towards him and he would never bring it up again. But kept bringing it up. The way she looks at him, with disbelief, with disappointment, and the painful restraint she shows so that the way she speaks to him is insincere. Everything about her–the energy, the tone, the body language is cold, critical, and hateful. She has so much bitterness now. The minute the girl had texted him the naked picture of her in her undies and she had seen it, she started shifting.

He had to come to the realization that she stopped loving him for about a year now. On their 6 year anniversary, she didn’t even make plans. He had bought her her favorite Hong Kong wrapped flowers and the Stephanie Meyers books she liked, but she didn’t really show her love for it. It sounded fake when she acted surprise.

He had cried to her, “For the first time, I don’t know what to do.”

He was developing feelings for the other woman and he wanted her to change soon before he really leaves her, but she wouldn’t. Angelie had told him instead that he should seek professional help. She really didn’t know what to do with his sadness. She was not able to hold his pain. She wouldn’t listen after he told her many times that he just wants her to be happy.

She couldn’t understand what he meant. She told him that she will be happy if he stopped smoking, if he stopped cheating, if he did this …that…but he knew she was delusional.

Because he knew that she was not going to be happy no matter what.

He had a suspicion that she had depression by the way the woman had counseled him. The other woman had deep empathy for Angelie. She told him that his wife was dealing with a lot of depression and there was nothing he could ever do to change that.

He didn’t want to live the rest of his life with a woman with depression. Because that is something he can not fix. It was out of his hands. He can only choose to let her go.

And this woman who listens carefully to him, giving him sound advice–both business and personal–this woman who is now stirring his emotions, who sounds intellectual, well put together, this is the woman whom he wants to be with now. His body doesn’t lie. He’s conflicted.

He loves Angelie, so why is he now obsessing over her?

Now she keeps holding onto the marriage, she keeps speaking possibilities to him like she will change. She won’t. She will always be this way. And he can’t accept her for who she really is.

He wants someone different. Or perhaps, she will only change, that part of her that needs to grow up–have responsibility, achieve her dream, and travel when he leaves her.

He only wishes the best for her. He only wants her to grow up and learn that only she is responsible for her happiness. Nobody else. He loves her so much and if it means that he has to let her go for her to grow, then he must do so.

He makes sure that there will be a point of no return. He gets the other girl pregnant the week he had told Angelie that he was hoping that she was pregnant. But it was the other woman. God has given them both a sign. It was time for Sonny to move on. He could no longer be responsible for her happiness, because it was an impossible task. It was God telling him that he must let her go to let her grow.  

An Afterwords:

“I think I’m ready to fall in love with another man like Sonny,” you say to Elle while they were both walking down the streets of Abbytown.

“Why would you do that to yourself again?” Elle asked her. “He cheated on you and hurt you.”

“Yeah, but I never forgave him.”

“Why would you want to be with a cheater?”

“Let me ask you something, have you ever cheated on your ex?”


“Should I call you a cheater and leave you as my friend?”

She stood quiet.

“Look, I’m not here to judge you. I’m still here with you, but just know that Sonny has given me 6 beautiful years of my life, and the last year he has taught me so much about myself looking back.”

Elle gives her a look. She wants to make her wrong, wants to fix this for her, the same way Angelie would because they are soul sisters who deal with the same shadows. Elle and Angelie both want to control, criticize, and label everything in their negative. But this time Elle held her tongue.

“He’s given me more happiness than he has caused suffering. Looking back, his final act was an act of love as well. He knew that he couldn’t take on the responsibility for my happiness because it wouldn’t work. If it would work, he would have done it…he would have stuck around. But because he loved me so much, he had to let me go in order for me to grow. And you know what? It worked.”

“But you want someone better right?”

“No, I want him just the way he is. I want to be better.”

Elle looked confused.

“The truth is that the men whom I love actually love me more, but they just expressed it differently. Even if that action is to let go,” Angelie reflected.

A Poem Sonny had Written to You:

there you are,

rose amongst the weeds,

subtle as the summer breeze you’re perfectly seen,

a gift to me you shine so brightly,

like a diamond in the sky,

and you’re the reason why, you opened up my eyes,

you’re like a portrait or a picture painted very long ago,

a moment frozen in time,

immortalized in my mind,

never lost a precious find,

a poetic silhouette for my eyes…

can’t imagine me without the missing piece

like a puzzle incomplete

but together are a masterpiece

i used to dream and fantasize of you and I

spending any time and now i’m so overjoyed

that I have found the missing piece to my life

if I could travel back in time

for the creation of life

i’m sure that what God did for me

would have been this very thing

within you divine and supreme

I love you dad.

I love you Sonny.

I love you B.

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