There are a load of married women out there who are simply playing house. Sure it may seem like a dream as they livestream and offer you a peek of the apparently idyllic bliss and perfection within which she lives with her photogenic husband and kids, walk in closet and holidays that jet set as you sit there scrolling the feed and vicariously living from your cubicle in the office as you eat an instant snack thats high in sodium and low in nutrition. I’m going to let you into a little secret:
She hates every moment of it. Well, maybe not her children, entirely, even though they do get hit with the shrapnel that explodes from time to time due to her immense dissatisfaction. Naked she stands, in front of the mirror with fourth wine glass in hand at two PM. If you look closely you’ll notice her eyes glisten as she’s been crying, quietly to herself because she has to keep such a firm grip on her emotions that she’s starting to notice the tension patterns set in. “What is wrong with me?” she thinks. “I’ve got it all. My dreams since a kid have been more than fulfilled. All I’ve got to do is play my position” escapes as a whisper from her lips as she stands there surrounded by all the shiny things she coveted. “Why do I feel so empty and unfulfilled within?”.
Running her hands across her flawless skin as she shakes her tresses she attempts to see what her myriad of followers evidently witness based upon their comments and adulation. It worked, for a while, all of this digital attention but now that is starting to wear thin. The kids did too. For a while, again. Mostly when they were small and totally dependent because they were fixated on her, she was their all and everything but now the eldest has hit double digits and she can already smell the trouble brewing and the youngest…. Well, the younger girl never loved her not matter how much she doted on her. “Like she could feel I wasn’t authentic” she says as she drains her drink and the tears start free-flowing.
Its a hard thing for a mother to admit that she detests her children and husband but thats the truth and its such a bitter pill to swallow that she feels like regurgitating. A wry grin passes her lips as she remembers the game she played since a teen of “Eat and go vomit“. It was like the best of both worlds as she satisfied herself and managed to stay thin because her mother had drilled into her head, for as long as she could recollect:
“No man wants a fat girl and if you aren’t married by twenty seven the rest know there is a problem, that something is broken or very wrong within. You have to make the best of your prime years and get that winning ticket otherwise you’ll end up in the mess I’m in”. Raising her by herself meant there was a complete absence of the stabilizing masculine presence. Unless you count her ever changing “friends” who she watched get finessed, again and again, for a hint of affection. “Whats between your legs is the most powerful thing on the planet” she sings with a grin after fleecing another idiot for his time, money and attention as she was exceedingly successful in extracting whatever she needed as she was so attractive, seductive and great at playing whatever role they thought they expected.
Coming up in a home like this its no wonder she’s a mess. Thing is, she learned early on how to keep it hidden. As such none of her friends really were as they could feel something frozen and solid she wouldn’t express but they sensed, nonetheless. Thoughts of her kids popped into her head and how the youngest is the complete opposite. She really doesn’t care what anyone thinks or says about her and has such an immense level of security and comfort due to the relationship she has with her father. Oh, how she hates to admit the very concept that she could be jealous of her own flesh and blood but she really is and knew something was different since the moment she felt repulsed when first attempting breast feeding. The elder she has literally molded in her image and they get on so well. But then that is because they only ever dwell on the surface. Bonding over their love for shiny things, the desire to stay thin and attractive whilst watching reality shows on the television whilst curled up under the blanket.
And yet, this all fills her with dread because she knows where the path ends but feels powerless to change a thing as thats the life that was poured into her head as a kid and she is installing all of the same programming into the next generation, even though thats what got her into this mess. The youngest one directly calls her out on her BS and it really stings to see how perceptive she is. Its like, for her, the mask doesn’t exist and she shines a light into the dark recesses then takes glee in poking at the tenderness. She actually does this in an attempt to comprehend why there is such a difference between what she senses in terms of the affection coming from her parents. To her, her father feels like steel which exists like a shroud around wool. When it opens up and she nestles in to his arms to hear his heartbeat thundering it feels like she is home because the strength and acceptance he radiates is so comforting that it finally allows her to relax. With her mother, its different. She sends all the signals of being warm on the surface but deep down within she feels frozen solid and she is quite certain she hates her but will never admit it. That much is obvious because she acts totally different with her older sibling.
To say their relationship is complicated would be an understatement because she possesses an innate confidence that is totally lacking in her parent. She doesn’t crave, need or even look for external validation. None of the things that seem so important to her mean a thing to this kid who does exactly what she feels because that is the driving force of her existence. If she doesn’t sense that warmth within when she picks out a dress she’ll go and get something else that does fulfill. “That? Are you serious? You’ll look like a mess. No, I’m not having this. Go and put that dress on that I picked. Right now. This instant” she yells with disdain at this brat that is getting on her very last nerve as she prepares breakfast. “No” she replies, looking at her with a measured indifference. Small or large is irrelevant when it comes to a battle of the wits because she simply will not acquiesce, no matter the threats, cajoling or promises. “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” she says, exasperated, as she beams affection at her elder sibling who is sitting there, neatly eating, a picture perfect reflection of herself and who does what shes says and likes the same things. “And then” she thinks “Then there is… this. Whatever it is” as she looks disdainfully at the kid standing in the kitchen wearing a track suit with a pair of boots and book in her hand.
“Fine, do what you want. I don’t care if you like to look a mess. Come over here and eat your breakfast”. She watches the kid tuck in with a joyful abandon that she could never muster, not then and especially not now due to the amounts of amphetamine diet pills coursing through her system in order to keep presenting the image of perfection she feels she needs to be accepted. After the school run the drinking kicks off in earnest. Once again, she is naked. Standing in her walk in closet she is starting to notice the signs of aging that she has been staving off for decades. “What happens when I’m no longer attractive?” she barely allows herself to think in between large sips of an expensive red that she is concerned may stain her teeth but is the only type strong enough to keep her ever growing anxiety on a short leash as she struggles to function. She flashes back and thinks about the time she considered ending it all with pills and slitting her wrists in the bathtub, just to make certain because nothing is worse than the shame that comes with a failed attempt and then having to live with people actually getting a glimpse of the misery hidden within the image she worked so hard to build in their heads.
She rages at her husband. “If he wasn’t so busy working all the time and then directing all of his remaining attention at the kids things would be different”. The truth is he feels it as well and has known since he first met her that she simply can’t receive or give affection as fully as he wishes but she ticks so many other boxes that he was more than willing to overlook and forgive this shortcoming. “Who cares?” he thinks, as he took in her young nakedness in their first apartment back when he wasn’t yet an executive but more than on the fast track to success. To say he had his pick would be an understatement as the women were not even subtle when it came to signaling their interest because he had all they could desire. Yet he found their keenness a bit demeaning. “Like they don’t even know me and are going all overboard for the things and attributes I possess”. He came from wealth, his parents had instilled lots of good values in him and the silver spoon had helped but he was still firmly independent as he eschewed traditions and did what he felt would work out for the best.
That was why he found her so attractive as there was a challenge. Something hidden within that he sensed she was withholding and he wanted, more than anything else, to crack this shell to experience what was obscured as it simply must be magnificent and, more importantly, she’d never given it to anyone else. “That was the problem with these women” he thought and reflected as he sat in business class on a jet with the stewardesses fawning over him. They’re simply concerned with the image just so they can brag to their friends what they were capable of bagging and that a man of this caliber was willing to put up with their BS. In his Ice Queen, as he called her privately in his head, there was depth. He had no idea what it was but was fascinated, nonetheless.
Now, fifteen years later, he has cause to regret because no matter what he did, attempted or bought to table that section remained fenced in and off limits. Worse, it has expanded. It felt like sleeping with a glacier that was extremely pretty from a distance but up close and personal the chill turns your skin because something vital is very obviously missing. “Still” he thinks “I’ve got the kids” and so he chooses to focus his attention on them when he is not busy working as this is the bed he made and now must lie in it.
She sips as tears steadily drip in a measured rhythm as there is but so much she will allow herself to feel at any given moment. Alcohol helps, so do the pills and these anti-depressives along with the medical Mary Jane which does the trick in keeping the immense pressures within from exploding to the surface. Not to mention the millions who are following and lavish their attention upon the surface of her veneered existence via the distance of their screens so they have no clue of whats beneath because she definitely won’t allow them in to get a peek.
In Somerset, England there is an exceedingly average woman who is married to the equivalent masculine and they too have two kids. They fight from time to time, she whines about him to her friends about whatever irritating thing he did, the size of her stomach, how she wishes she was thin plus how the bills are kicking in again. You know, the usual. He, on the other hand, complains to his friends over a sip that she’s always nagging about little things and literally drives him to drink so they change the topic and play cards for the rest of the evening. Coming home, nicely drunk as he says, his girls run up to him and he lavishes them with affection as he says “Is your mother smiling or growling?” at which point they all turn to her and imitate a T Rex as they start ambling towards her grimacing.
Moments like this she can’t help but grin as they may not have much but their home is filled with abundant emotion that is freely expressed, whether in rage or tenderness. This much is always present and for certain tempers may flare as she gets irritated at the kids or feels upset when she notices her reflection in the mirror as she dries off after bathing and thinks of the number time did on her once svelte physique and however can her man still find her attractive. He worries about the bills because with three mouths to feed it can be expensive but then he always makes sure to take time out for himself so that he doesn’t carry around loads of work stress because home is where he comes to rest, where he feels wanted and without that he’d have nothing and its all pointless. Its what keeps him motivated and trucking because he knows he picked that woman, made them kids and its up to him to raise them the very best he can whilst keeping them clothed, fed and nurtured. Sure, they don’t have much in terms of material excess but every single thing she who has millions of views when she livestreams is missing is present and correct in this environment because even the irritants are affectionate due to the full spectrum resonance where all is freely expressed and none clamp down their emotions to fit anothers expectations or image.
This overweight housewife that really could do with shedding the pounds of baby weight she gained and then kept hold of as it steadily increased over a decade often tunes in to the feed of the well kept woman of which we were speaking. She is mesmerized by the life she is living. It all seems so perfect and well done. And her kids? Her kids are adorable, especially the youngest one because there is something about her that jumps out of the screen and reminds her so much of the two at home. She’s perfectly dressed, still as slim now as she was then and oh, all of those shoes and dresses in that immense walk in closet. The holidays they take and the share with the rest. All those unique experiences while we get the same trip to Spain, again and again.
She can’t help but think about how it would feel to live like this. Little does she know of the crippling addictions and anxiety along with ever increasing malaise that dwells just beneath her perfectly edited and presented pics that signal to the world not the life she truly lives but the image she wishes to project in the hopes she eventually feels it. The streams of attention help with their validation and fawning but its always that one bad comment about “Look at her eyes, she’s dead within” or “Have you noticed the little girl keeps her distance?” and such things that spin around in her head, filling her with an immense sense of dread, rage, shame and other painful emotions that she feels like chasing them down and screaming at them for daring to say such things. She reigns herself in because she knows that would just validate what they intuit – that its all for show and not a true reflection of how she’s living. That would be the end of the brand she’d worked so hard building and is now her full time business. At first it started back in High School and her looks just ensured her followers kept growing as she played this game well and gave them just enough of what they wanted whilst shrouding the rest. It allowed her the pick of the litter and in fact it was how she got him.
As usual, with any man who got her interest she would engineer to place herself in his environment whilst seeming entirely oblivious of her target. Ten times out of ten everyone would notice her immaculately coiffured and presented appearance that screamed of an effortless elegance that was actually honed to perfection by her overbearing mother who placed the rule that “Any woman on the shelf at twenty seven may as well give it up and go be a cat lady instead because then there is nothing but dregs on both sides of the fence”. She wanted her to marry for resources, image and all these surface things because they were the only important parts and taught her well how to leverage what was between her legs as well as the plays and tricks to feign affection and other ego stroking tips. “A man will fake a relationship for an orgasm and a woman should do the opposite. Remember this and make him feel you’re the best he’s ever had, treat him like a king. Men are simple idiots really, easily manipulated as they are all secret romantics but this, this” she said tapping at her teenage chest “Never, ever let anyone in because you’ll never get over it and then you’ll end up in the mess I’m in when he left with another woman and I was stuck with a kid. The value of a woman with baggage is in the negatives when it comes to the men worth having. Thats why there was that steady stream of ingrates because bills had to be paid and I wanted to send you to that good college out of state. All is fair in this game, as long as you win in the end. Remember this”.
Such lessons were seared into her consciousness and she hated living out this script that promised so much and yet felt like a thin slice of death that bought with it an ever increasing sense of emptiness and silent desperation that threatened to envelop everything. She sat there, scrolling through her feed at all the “OMG! You’re so pretty!”, “Living the dream!”, “How does she stay so thin with all that gorgeous food she eats?” and various other forms of adoring chemistry. In a sense she felt like King Midas where all he touched turned to gold. A boon for those who don’t know but a pain for those who just want to be held close. For her it was ice and her younger kid was like a flame. Her very presence palpitated a threat to rigid and cold existence as she was the literal opposite and she hated her with an intensity that scared her in some ways. She shed tears for her eldest as she knew the life that was coming as she’d been programmed the same way as she with the “Look, look at me” mentality. She wept, not realizing she’d accidentally began live streaming. “My life is a mess. I hate myself. My husband barely looks at me and I’m crazy drunk at three PM just to ease the stress” she yelled out loud and felt the pain explode from her chest as she stared loudly sobbing and felt herself blacking out as her body was shaking. All that had been suppressed for so long was racing through her head. Like all of her mothers “friends” who’d been making passes, groping or undressing her with their eyes since she was ten and how disgusted she felt. When she told her mother she replied “Take it as a compliment, doesn’t it prove what I said about the power of whats between your legs and how you should take advantage of it? Practice. Try leading them on then asking for something. I never keep them round long enough anyway because I get what I want then drop them so why shouldn’t you get the benefits? Its for the best in the long run. One day you’ll see what I meant”.
She didn’t realize how she’d been screaming, fighting off and clawing these demons that had haunted her from within, forcing her inner child to clamp down her real feelings and build a life inauthentic instead. Her phone had been discarded so all her followers could see was a shot of the ceiling as they heard her long repressed anguish being freed in a live stream that had grown exponentially as people shared the link to what none had ever expected. The sound of the notifications were going off like automatic gunfire as she lays there wondering what was so important as she drifts back to the present moment. At home in Somerset the last thing the woman sees is her idols beleaguered face with tears streaming down her cheeks and a look of sheer misery and shock suddenly comprehending what has happened as she brings this impromptu therapy session slash reconnection to her inner realm to an end.
Whilst this account is fictional and based on a composite of many, many seemingly successful and having it all single or married women with kids I’ve met it weaves a narrative from what was exceedingly obvious as I delved into their depths. Its way more common than you think because those who validate themselves have no need or cravings for likes from strangers so don’t believe what you see in these times of digital deceit. More than eight out of ten who seemingly have it all have some degrees of what I illustrated above within whilst those that aren’t of the Insta ages target demograph and image are actually abundant to the level of excess of what the engineered presences are claiming in terms of fulfillment. Thing is you can’t live stream authenticity in a world visually dominated and obsessed with the surface level image of TV like perfection. You can however use these tricks to manipulate people into believing everything is great when its far, far from this. Its why I said at the beginning:
There are a load of married women out there who are simply playing house.
They don’t need to be rich, attractive and followed from here to the other end of the net. They can be quite average. Matter of fact one might be sleeping in your bed right now if you’re a man or you might be the wife sitting there reading, thinking “Finally, someone who gets it”. There is a sound these women make that feels like a mix between a sigh and scream that bridges all points from pleasure to misery as something previously held tightly within gets released as they ease the freeze and melt incrementally. A piece of them they’ve held back, even from their own awareness, seems to be given a vent in my experience. Long ago one said “You’re great for affairs but no way could I live this without an off switch” as I asked with amusement what she meant:
“Nobody can keep up. You’re just way too intense and direct. Its thrilling but exhausting. An occasional nibble now and then is perfect to keep life interesting” and this offered a great insight into the private worlds of many women that most husbands don’t even suspect exist. Its why you’re going to see a shift in society and its attitudes to monogamy in the coming decades because the current model was created for taxation purposes and various other things that aren’t in your best interests becomes outdated. The new model will be just as imperfectly intended as well but it will be designed to offset the immense amount of anxiety and existential dread that the the Alpha Generation have been bathed in since they first stepped into this realm. Totally divorced from the feltsense Generation X who were born onto an analog planet before it was bathed in EM and the convenience of digital that extends an invisible web for its own purposes and intent in the name of entertrainment. The moral of the story is this:
There is a direct correlate in between the level of authenticity you feel within and the external need for validation. Also, look closely at the behaviors, attitude and temperament of the kid you don’t like as much as the rest because they are actually an embodied aspect of your weakness manifesting as strength. This makes a lot of parents, male and female, very uncomfortable due to parts of themselves which are being activated by the full spectrum presence of a child. Also look at the golden one who is happily molded in your graven image because by following your directions they’ll end up exactly where you are, if not worse. This kind of stuff compounds over generations and its all thanks to the System that churns out yet more Slaves disconnected from their inner realms as the Game of Souls keeps spinning and squeezing the pips of those within it who have no knowledge of Self but plenty of the Current Thing that designs how they think they should be living. Its a very elegant trick which is why its so easy to fall for it.
An attitude of gratitude can change everything, as can being authentic. Two things that are anathema to the digital kids, unless you’re using surface level facsimiles of them to virtue signal to bring more attention from without to distract from the nagging emptiness that beats in your chest as well as the immense level of tension you’d swear blind you don’t possess. Like I said, it sounds like a mix between a sigh and scream when finally given vent and most of them noticed how they walked, talked and felt different after getting in touch with themselves and allowing the unknown unknowns that previously wielded immense influence to melt as they stepped into the shadows depth and found enlightenment.
Till we meet again