MISCONCEPTIONS OF FORGIVENESS

By Celice Maree

THIS BOOK IS AN EIGHT-YEAR DESCENT INTO HELL AND BACK.

I screamed then fell to the floor... The deafening cries in my head as vibrant as screams projecting from my very mouth. I was inconsolable, in total shock. I didn't feel anger, I didn't feel rage. What I did feel was utter stupidity and humiliation. How had my heart been deceived

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawline Publishing Group
• Release date: Dec 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781922594983

Celice Maree

Celice is a woman who has lived through much pain and heart break but never once lost her ability to love or forgive. This story is written to inspire women of all generations who feel they have lost themselves in love or are looking for a reason to not only feel inspired but to leave behind a situation that is detrimental to their health and mind.Find the courage to put yourself first!Celice's ability to be able to transport the reader into her life and story is mesmerising. You will feel her positivity as she deals with her pain, to the point that it feels like you are almost living this existence with her.

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MISCONCEPTIONS

OF FORGIVENESS

CELICE MAREE

Misconceptions of Forgiveness

Copyright © 2021 Celice Maree.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This is a work of nonfiction. The events and conversations in this book have been set down to the best of the author’s ability, although some names and details may have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. Every effort has been made to trace or contact all copyright holders. The publishers will be pleased to make good any omissions or rectify any mistakes brought to their attention at the earliest opportunity.

Printed in Australia

Cover design by Shawline Publishing Group Pty Ltd

First Printing: November 2021

Shawline Publishing Group Pty Ltd

www.shawlinepublishing.com.au

Paperback ISBN- 9781922594464

Ebook ISBN- 9781922594983

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1: ONE NIGHT STAND

CHAPTER 2: BACHELOR NUMBER ONE

CHAPTER 3: INITIAL SIGNS

CHAPTER 4: TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

CHAPTER 5: BACK TO THE REAL WORLD

CHAPTER 6: OCTOBER 17TH, 2014

CHAPTER 7: DECISIONS AND REGRETS

CHAPTER 8: THE TWO MARIAS

CHAPTER 9: THE DEATH THAT ROCKED US

CHAPTER 10: SURVIVAL MODE

CHAPTER 11: EXIT PLAN

CHAPTER 12: THE WORST IS YET TO COME

CHAPTER 13: DISASTER AND DISAPPOINTMENT

CHAPTER 14: BACK DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

CHAPTER 15: KARMA ALWAYS FINDS YOU

CHAPTER 16: BACHELOR NUMBER 2

CHAPTER 17: THE FRIEND ZONE

CHAPTER 18: LET THE GAMES BEGIN

CHAPTER 19: VANISHING ACT

CHAPTER 20: HOPEFUL BEGINNINGS

CHAPTER 21: HAPPY NEW YEAR

CHAPTER 22: A WEB OF LIES

CHAPTER 23: BLIND FAITH

CHAPTER 24: DISTANCE AND DECEPTION

CHAPTER 25: DEJA VU

CHAPTER 26: SMOKE AND MIRRORS

CHAPTER 27: DISTANCE AND DISRESPECT

CHAPTER 28: FREEDOM

CHAPTER 29: MEETING THE OTHER WOMAN

REFLECTION

INTRODUCTION

THE CAR SMASHED into the concrete wall so fast the noise and force were unimaginable. I could feel the weight of the engine push the dashboard towards me. I was terrified and knew this night would be life altering. Never had I ever felt my body recoil like this before. As the metal frame of the car contacted with the solid concrete wall, I could feel the airbags explode in my face instantly and on the sides of the car doors. For a split second that felt like a lifetime, I was numb wondering, is my body broken and damaged or worse still...am I dead...?

This definitely was nothing like our previous car accident. There was no walking away from this without a care in the world. This accident could kill us.

At the same time, the accident happened in such slow motion I had time to process what was happening around me and reminded myself to brace for impact as I could see the wall coming closer and closer as every second passed.

Hitting a concrete wall at 140km per hour head on makes you put life into perspective quickly, or so I believed it would.

It was whilst I was laying in the ambulance being checked by the first responders for injuries, with my oxygen mask on and the tank on high flow, did I realise it was up to me to free myself from this destructive relationship I had allowed myself to exist in for some time now. Little did I know it would be another two years of manipulation, lies, cheating and physical abuse before I finally had the courage to tell him to get out of my life and never return.

I’d finally found my voice and strength, but what would become of the shell of a woman he had buried for so long.

I had stayed, knowing there was no future for me, but I did so in hoping I could give him a future. That we could build a future together for the both of us to enjoy better than the lives we had experienced in our own childhoods, despite our extremely different upbringings.

All our mutual friends used to tell me I was the most patient woman in the world, helping this man to try and see his potential. However, here I was, starting to question my own sanity. Was I patient or just plain stupid? Maybe I was the sadistic one who got a thrill out of the pain he caused me.

This is my story to be told... my cross to bear... my soul crushing, naked, raw truth of pain, torment, love and abuse, as I rode the rollercoaster of an emotional hell, I had allowed myself to live in for so many years. I realised sometimes addiction is not about drugs, but can be about the unrequited, inexplicable, exquisite love you feel for a man. With every fibre of my being, I was unable to walk or pull myself away for the fear of life on my own. I had allowed myself to be manipulated for so long. I was now ruled by fear until slowly, over time, I found the inner strength and courage I had possessed years earlier to dig myself out of this hole I found myself existing in.

How had I lost not only myself, but my ability to believe in myself? I allowed my love to be controlled by narcissistic, cruel behaviour. Eventually, when I found my inner strength once more, the very essence of my soul would be irrevocably damaged with life-changing effects.

My story of true discovery, my own personal awakening within the walls of deception, trial and error... My life, my raw emotional pain for everyone to read, my words, my destiny.

1

ONE NIGHT STAND

IT WAS MONDAY night. If we weren’t flying, we would all go to ‘Scene’, a nightclub known as the place to be seen where most cabin crew would gather. A club where we had 50% off drinks and you would spend most of the night walking through the crowd saying hello to friends and acquaintances who you had either just flown with or had not had the chance to see for months or possibly years. It was the place to be in 2012 each Monday.

I saw him the instant he walked into the club. My eyes were fixated on him and I was immediately intrigued by the cute smile. It felt as if someone had placed the palm of their hands on each side of my head and turned me towards him as he arrived. From the bar where I was standing, I was facing the entrance of the club and I was scanning the crowd as everyone walked in. He and his three friends were instantly noticed not only by me but also by most females this particular evening.

The first thought that ran through my mind was how much he reminded me of Chris Brown with his dark blue jeans, caterpillar boots, black t-shirt and navy-blue bomber jacket.

The four guys had the attention of a lot of girls as soon as they walked into the club. I had never been the type of woman to throw myself at a guy and I was not about to start tonight. I was there with two friends of my own. We were at the main bar in the middle of the club and throughout the night, we had been experiencing random guys buying us drinks and giving us tequila shots.

We were definitely awake to what these men were expecting from us at the end of the night, but what they expect and what they would receive left them walking away at 3am with their tails between their legs; we were not the sort of girls who would take random strangers home from a club. Plus, we had explained to them because they were not cabin crew, they were unable to sign into our accommodation where we lived. So, with that I went back to staring at the guy on the other side of the dance floor who would later introduce himself to me as Harry.

He never noticed me quietly watching him for two hours as he talked to his friends. I was also watching the Eastern European girls throw themselves at him. Later that night, Harry told me he had gone out this Monday just to pick up a girl for a one-night stand as he put it.

Little did I know this one-night stand would turn into five years of destruction and hell. Half a decade I would regret terribly for years to come. If only I had listened to the voice inside my head telling me to not save his number in my phone, the voice that was telling me ‘Don’t have an after party Celice, don’t invite him’. I have often wondered to myself over the years if my thirties would have turned out differently if I had chosen not to go to Scene that particular night, if only I had not spoken to him and not invited him back to my house with everyone else.

Harry was the life of every party, very well known in the company we flew for, as the Kenyan who drinks and shows everyone a great time. Fun Harry, the notorious party guy with a cheeky smile that would melt your heart, who always had you laughing and drinking. It was a regular occurrence for the whole crew off a flight to be in Harry’s apartment drinking three hours after landing back in Dubai.

Over the time and years we were together, I grew to know a completely alternate version of this boy. A guy who would ultimately leave a permanent scar above my right eye from hitting my face with a PlayStation. Whilst I would be sleeping, he would eventually pull me out of bed by my ankles to choke me while hitting me in the face with his fist. Drinking was his game and alcohol was his kryptonite.

It was instantaneous. He was telling his friends I was his new girlfriend. I didn’t stop to think to myself ‘ask around Celice, suss him out, see what he is all about’. I had been single for six years before moving to Dubai, so I found having a special new someone to explore a new city with was exciting. I didn’t even bother to find out how long he had been single or even if he was single. I just chose to believe Harry from the get-go. To land from a flight and head out to clubs and restaurants with not a care in the world, except dancing with my new man, is exactly what I wanted to do for the first year.

I heard what most people thought, his and my friends included. What is she doing? I was nine years older than him when we met; he was 23 and I 32. He had just hit the jackpot in his friend’s eyes; I was the mzungu [white woman] he would end up bleeding dry emotionally and financially.

All Harry’s friends told him on a regular basis, This woman is gold, treat her as such.

They all used to say to me Are you serious? What are you doing? You’re punching below your belt, a woman like you deserves a man who puts her on a pedestal, a man who cherishes you, not a boy you have to clean up after and spoon feed.

I still remember the first words I spoke to Harry when I met him, I will chew you up and spit you out. To me, Harry was a child, a boy in his early twenties with so much learning and growing to do.

By the time I eventually walked away and found my freedom once more, I felt as though I had been a single parent for 5 years raising a child. A woman exhausted beyond repair who never once put herself first. A woman who felt obligated to support him because no one else would, a woman who when she looked in the mirror did not even recognise the person looking back at her anymore, for it had been years since her smile and confidence had lit up every room she walked into.

Now when I looked in the mirror, staring back at me was a shell who sounded like me, looked like me, dressed like me, but emotionally I was absolutely shattered and exhausted from loving someone who was incapable of reciprocating my love and care.

To say I entered this relationship with my eyes closed is the understatement of the decade. I definitely did not hear the lights, bells and whistles going off in my head warning me it would be better to be happy and alone than miserable and in a relationship. But I was newly living in a fast-paced city where our job life could be extremely lonely. I kept telling myself, Hey just go with the flow, he is fun, he is young, he looks way too innocent to ever be the sort of guy to lie, cheat, steal, abuse and manipulate.

That there was my first and biggest mistake. Making excuses for someone just to have someone. I had become blinded by the lights and loved the lifestyle I was now accustomed to.

If only I had walked away in those first months, I would repeat to myself over and over for years to come.

2

BACHELOR NUMBER ONE

WE SETTLED INTO our version of a relationship extremely quickly. We were always working with flights back-to-back, so whenever we had spare days in Dubai, we were together.

Or so I thought...

I have always been one of those women who always sees the good in people, no matter how someone treats me, does or says I still try to see the good and more often than not am always the first one to help or stand up to say, If you need anything please let me know.

I am extremely selfless, and I strive to put my partner’s needs before my own. Not anymore.

I have never cheated on a man in my life or looked at other men when I’m in a relationship. I am always 100% committed and extremely loyal. So loyal, in fact, I even let my boyfriends know when another man has hit on me, which of course has often caused more harm than good being so open and honest. Over the years, this has led to a couple of boyfriends connecting their knuckles to my face and blaming me. Telling me I had obviously provoked the suitor and started it or I love the attention so much.

In my mind I always thought, If there really was something more to this situation than meets the eye, why on earth would I be telling you?

Years later, I realised a guilty conscience always assumes everyone is doing what they are doing. If your man is cheating, he will automatically think you are doing the exact same thing because that is his way of thinking.

So, as expected from my side of the coin, the thought of him cheating did not ever enter my mind for a long time as I naively and stupidly believed in the good of this boy.

It was only four months since I had relocated to Dubai to start my new career as a flight attendant and only two months of flying, so I had not quite yet grasped the concept of exactly what your boyfriends do when you are on a layover or what they do themselves when they are overseas in a hotel room. How I was raised and from my past boyfriends I had, I believed if someone ultimately loves you, they will make the effort for you and want to be with you. There will never be any second guessing or playing games.

How wrong I was in this instance.

In Dubai, everyone is replaceable, with the fast-paced lifestyle and a city that never sleeps. In the world in which we lived here, there were no drugs, but there was still alcohol, sex and rock and roll. Or at least hip hop in Dubai’s clubbing scene, which Harry and his friends were desperate to be a part of.

We lived across the road from each other in what we called crew accommodation. He lived with his flatmate and I with mine. We all were moving in the same circles of friends, but it became evident I would be the one to make more of an effort to fit in with his friends.

I was from a first world country and he was from a third world country, so for me a new culture was exciting and refreshing. I had not spent any time around Kenyans in Australia before, so hanging out, dancing, drinking and being accepted was a great feeling.

Guys from Australia don’t dance the way Africans do and I loved this new African beat. To see these guys with rhythm and all the confidence was extremely sexy and alluring for a girl from Australia.

I had been dancing from the age of three, so it wasn’t like I didn’t have any rhythm, however in the African cultures, everyone moves to a different beat of the drum.

One particular Monday night, I was out with some friends. Harry had landed from a Munich flight at 10.30 pm. Within two hours of landing, he was in the club with all of us girls, having brought his own guys with him. It felt great to have my guy make the effort to come and meet me out. As soon as he walked into the club, we were straight into the tequila shots.

Within minutes our song (or what would later become to be known as our song) ‘Got to Love You’ by Sean Paul was played by the DJ and forever this song would be etched into my memory causing nostalgic thoughts each time I heard it played.

One minute I was standing with my friends at a table chatting and moving to the beat of the music, the next I was thrust up against a wall with my back and arms pinned unable to move, whilst Harry faced me grinding his body up and down mine not allowing me to move or touch him. This was his signature dance move to get the girls to fall for him. It was hot and it was the sexiest I had ever felt, having a man grind his body fully clothed against me. He knew he had rhythm and knew how to move. When he did this dance move, you were putty in his hands. Any females that would happen to be around us or near us would immediately stop and stare but not before saying to me oh my god that’s fucking HOT. To which I would reply with a smile as big as a Cheshire cat, I know, right...?

Unbeknownst to me, there was an abundance of females all running around Dubai, believing this provocative, sexy grinding was just for them.

One of the bouncers had to come and ask him to stop since his moves were too sexy for a nightclub in the middle east. This would be the first of many encounters at clubs where security had to come and pull us apart for our dancing being too provocative. I too would soon learn the art of dancing how Africans dance and this would often get me into trouble.

It was that move there and then, grinding up against me, pinning my body against his while he stared directly into my eyes that made me fall for him hook, line and sinker. Guys in Australia don’t dance like this, let alone push you up against a wall seductively in such a sexual way.

This false sense of security Harry was instilling within me would soon be lost, pulling me down to depths of despair and depression. Where had the insanely confident full of life woman, who never let any guy treat her badly, gone? She had just months earlier moved to an unknown country alone, possibly never returning to Australia. To look at me from the outside I would have you believe I had it all together, the kind heart, the maturity and confidence to tell this boy he was wasting his time and I deserved a man who would realise, or already know, how a woman deserved to be treated. But at the end of the day, he would soon crush my confidence to the actual breaking point of no return, where I would start to believe if I wasn’t with him, I would be unhappy and alone.

How far from the truth could I have been? How wrong I was to think even when someone constantly breaks you and hurts you, you keep on trying to make your relationship work. Was I a masochist who thrived on the pain? I had believed in the good in this man so much I would ignore all the tell-tale signs of lies and abuse and end up torturing myself.

Little did I know this art of deception was Harry’s seduction and it would soon begin to show me the ugly truth.

3

INITIAL SIGNS

I HAD ALWAYS been proud of myself for being aware of the games some people played, so I would often ask myself why it took me so long to wake up and realise I was just a convenience to him with a lot of mind games and manipulation thrown in.

I’ve never understood how females can continue seeing a guy when they know he is in a relationship. Is this because they just have no moral compass and care for no one but themselves, or are they fed such stories that they believe the guy in question is either single or he will leave his woman for her if she just holds on a little longer?

It’s not that I was completely blind or naïve, nor was I young and being blindsided by an older man who was trying to control me. Here I was a woman in her 30s, trying to help a man in his 20s realise his true potential and strive to be a better version of himself, so eventually he would believe anything he wished to do with his life he could accomplish. I hoped he would believe in himself the way I believed in him.

I simply believed in the good and would always try to justify bad or rude behaviour. Ultimately, when you start to put everything in perspective, it made you realise day by day, week by week and month by month you lose a little piece of yourself each time you give it to another person who doesn’t appreciate or deserve your love.

The first initial signs of cheating started about six months into the relationship. Females can delude themselves into believing it’s either lies, gossip or the other woman doesn’t mean anything to him. We justify all the reasoning by telling ourselves, Oh she doesn’t mean to him what I do, there is no way she could make him happy, treat him better than I am or she could never satisfy him the way I do.

This was my first mistake because if a man truly loves you, he will never treat you this way or put himself in a position to lose you.

One by one, I would hear about the different girls. By the end of the relationship, it had been brought to my attention there were at least a minimum of 20 girls he had cheated on me with, often using our bed to sleep with them.

Bessy from Belgium was the first one I heard about.

I am not sure if she knew about me, but whilst I was on a holiday back home in Australia; I was informed my boyfriend was out every night at clubs with a girl called Bessy. One of my friends sent me a picture of them together in a club with a photo showing his arms around her and kissing her cheek [his regular move for taking pictures with girls].

Upon arriving back in Dubai I kept quiet stupidly knowing what had been happening, however, believing if I’m back now, this won’t be continuing, all the while forgetting that with our job and lifestyle, traveling constantly in different countries and in hotels on a weekly basis, we often go weeks at a time without seeing our partner. Harry used this to his full advantage.

About two years after Bessy had left Dubai and moved back to Belgium, I saw a Facebook conversation between herself and Harry when we were eventually living together; he had left his Facebook page open on my laptop.

This conversation went into detail about how Harry wished they had a baby together and what a cute mixed-race baby it would be with her hazel eyes and his afro hair and dark skin.

Bessy still had no idea there was a girlfriend called Celice he was living with and using her laptop in the apartment she was paying for, to tell Bessy he wished they had a baby together.

I almost laughed so hard when I read this message. I wanted to say to Harry, In which world could you have a baby with someone? You live week by week, never helping me with rent or our monthly bills. Learn to take care of yourself and help your beautiful family who ask for support rather than trying to brainwash girls who left Dubai long ago.

A lot of the time he would say he was single, which of course, all the girls believed. I don’t blame any of these girls, only myself for my misfortune. I have never been a person to sit and dwell and say, Why me? The poor me syndrome doesn’t live in my mind space and I’m always helping my friends realise this too. We don’t need to sit and feel sorry for ourselves; we can change the way we think and feel, just by believing in ourselves. So, if this was the case, then why could I not just walk away? This was a question I still ask myself to this day. I don’t dwell on it, but it is there sometimes in the back of my mind.

One occasion during our first six months together, Harry had his birthday coming up. My flight was landing at 11:30 p.m. from Brazil, a long haul of 14 hours nonstop. No doubt I would be exhausted when I landed, however I wanted to make an effort and try to arrange some sort of party or drinks and dinner for him. Once I landed, I was able to change and head over to his apartment to join the celebration.

I had arranged for five of my girlfriends to head to Harry’s apartment with a cake and told them to invite people and I will be there to join once I arrived home from my flight.

They started the party at about 8 pm, so not too long before I landed. Once I’d arrived, I took a taxi home and showered and changed. By this time, it was about 1am and Harry called to tell me he would pick me up from my building as everyone was leaving and heading out to another apartment where there was another party organised for him.

Harry was the passenger in the car and I was ready when the boys asked me to come downstairs. The car was Harry’s red mustang and his friend was driving. The passenger seat was flipped forward and I jumped in the back.

The guys had a bottle of wine with them and plastic cups, so with the dark tinting of the car I poured myself a glass, knowing the police would not see me drinking in the back seat as we drove along the highway. I was happy to finally be back in Dubai after a 6-day trip and to be spending my boyfriend’s birthday with him. I could tell he had been drinking but had no idea how much alcohol he had consumed. It seemed he was agitated and who do you always take your anger out on? The one closest to you.

I had not been in Dubai for the last week and only in