“Well, as someone who’s never done drugs, how could you possibly know he was doing drugs?” Jen, my no-nonsense red-headed therapist asked, rather matter-of-factly. That was how she asked questions – firmly, yet kindly. Self-guided therapy at its finest.

I kept it – my account – brief. An hour session couldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the sordid details of my past relationship. Also, I was anxious to get to the meat of the issue: Why did I torture myself for six years?

Between my chronic illness and my quest to figure out what’s “wrong” with me, my life had become a series of doctors’ offices – particularly this one with its “calm your clients” blue walls – and traffic-cone orange bottles containing pills of all shapes and sizes. On this week’s menu is a pill that’s pea-soup green and slightly larger than the head of one of the colorful thumbtacks that held up pictures of her smiling, toothless toddler.

I note that the green pill seems to be working because I’m feeling less despondent and more normal (whatever that means). However, I had to take the oblong white pill on Easter to prevent an impending panic attack. That happens a lot these days.

Anyway, I considered that what she said was very logical. But something was still gnawing at me, like a lion to a raw, bloody steak… How could you be with someone for six years and not realize they have a drug habit? It was maddening.

At twenty-eight, I’m happily married to another man and we have a daughter. I have a house, a job as a writer, I’m a licensed foster parent, and I do lots of volunteer work. I’m generally happy.

It’s been seven years since I’ve seen or spoken to my ex-boyfriend, but here I am – seven years later – trying to make sense of this. Whatever this was.

See, most people have it wrong.

They believe that infidelity begins with a look from across a room, a smile… an innocent introduction. Often, that’s true. Infidelity doesn’t have to be physical, though; I’ve realized that over the years.

It doesn’t have to start with a look in your direction, a shy smile, or seemingly harmless flirting over text while your spouse is asleep next to you. (It never is innocent, by the way).

Infidelity can come in the form of porn, video games, or Facebook. Infidelity can come in the form of a needle, powder, or liquid (a $200 per weekend bar tab while your laughably naive girlfriend is away at college believing you got a second job and were working on going back to school).

Maybe she believed that you could have had a life together – get married and live happily ever after. Maybe she trusted you. Maybe she didn’t feel like she needed to question your every move because she was living out of state and wanted so badly to believe you. But you were seeing someone else.

The mistress doesn’t always have blonde hair and fake tits.

Sometimes, there’s no look across a crowded room.

No… Sometimes, she’s behind a screen and will like you more for a few dollars, at the bottom of a bottle, or can be snorted through a rolled-up dollar bill.

So, I finally reply. “I guess you’re right. I just feel like I should have known… but he kept the drugs, drinking, and parties secret from me.”

And secrets hurt – physically like you’ve been punched in the gut.

I continued with my story – about that night when I was alone in my college dorm’s bathroom. I just sat there and cried. When I called to tell him what happened, there were accusations, arguing. Deflection, probably.

Then, the following morning, I found out about her. An actual woman – barely nineteen with dark hair and brown eyes. In an ironic twist of – whatever – her name was Hope.

Infidelity is usually a person. In my case, there was always another person. Why was I surprised?

How long has this been going on? Oh, right… I should be more specific. How long have you been “dating” Hope? Was she the “other woman” or was I? I the better part of six years of my life to you. How could you do this to me?

“How long was that going on?” she asked, tapping her pen on the clipboard.

Two months. At least, this time. In hindsight, there were others – I know there were. I always knew.

The last time we spoke, I told him that I could continue this cycle a million times over because I loved him, but I wasn’t going to anymore.

And to rot in hell. (This was the nice thing to say considering the lying, cheating, secrets, and mental and emotional abuse).

Then, I met my husband two months later. He truly picked up my pieces and I helped put me back together. Most of the time, I don’t even think about my ex-boyfriend.

My therapist commended me on my resilience (since she knows more about me than almost anyone) and some other things – I wasn’t really listening. As I left, I asked if I should contact him and apologize for how things were left.

“What good would that do? What would that accomplish?”

She’s right.

Wherever he is I just Hope he found help or what he was looking for.

I Hope he’s happy in hell.

Roll me into cigarettes.

Burn me down with your torch.

You can only blame yourself for freezing over hell.

Manipulation, as defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, is to “control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly, unfairly, or unscrupulously.” Its root words manus comes from the Latin for “hand” and plere for “to fill,” which were mashed together to somehow mean “skillful handling of objects (or people).” Thus, forming the term manipulation as we know it, first recorded in 1826. But enough with the semantics… let’s focus on what’s important. Manipulation has been around for much, much longer than the 1800’s (we just figured out how to define it). In fact, we are a society built upon manipulation, from the serpent tricking Eve into taking a bite out of the apple in the Garden of Eden to Christopher Columbus driving the Native Americans off their land. (In the words of comedian Eddie Izzard “No flag, no country. Those are the rules I just made up and I’m backing them up with this gun”).

 There are so many ways manipulation has been and (is being) used. Let’s look at current events. The election was one giant cesspool of manipulation. We elected a racist, misogynist, and xenophobic man to be president. Why? Well, the answer is both simple and complicated. The simple answer is people (i.e. his supporters) fell for his rhetoric, but it goes deeper than that. Perhaps they truly believed in him and his message that he would “Make America Great Again.” Newsflash: It’s going to take more than hats to accomplish that, though. But enough about that… Let’s think about all the people (or things) that manipulate us every day. (There’s a reason gas lighting is a real thing). We take the jobs promising quick promotions and bonuses, but, six years later, you have yet to see a raise while your company’s CEO buys his third vacation home. Meanwhile, you can barely afford for Little Johnny to play soccer and for Little Suzie to take dance class. Why? Because we grow up being told we can be whatever we want to be: an astronaut, a marine biologist, president… We don’t tell a child “you can be whatever you want to be, so long as it’s a bus driver, waiter, garbage man, or plumber.” No kid grows up wanting to be a delivery driver, factory worker, or mail carrier. Did you know you have about a 1% chance of becoming a professional athlete? By that statistic, you won’t be Lebron James, but the guy who does his dry cleaning or drives him around in a limo. Why? Because you can be whatever you want to be.

So, why if it’s so unlikely you’ll become a professional athlete, do schools cut programs like the arts and not sports? Isn’t it more likely you’ll be an art teacher than play for the Steeler’s? Well, colleges bolster the lie of “you can be whatever you want to be” because it makes them money. Their brochures won’t say “spend $100,000+ to not ever use your degree and spend the rest of your life working a minimum-wage retail job.” They’re selling a dream. And maybe some people do achieve their dreams, but we’re talking about everyone else. It’s hard to ignore that some of the most successful people never finished college and don’t hold degrees: Dave Thomas (Wendy’s) never finished high school, Steve Jobs (Apple), Richard Branson (Virgin Records), Rachael Ray (Food Network), Michael Dell (Dell Computers)… Need I say more?

But school and jobs aren’t the only way we’re manipulated by THEM (cue ominous music). We’re manipulated in how we choose a mate or carry out a relationship. Girls are told from a young age that, if a boy picks on them or is mean to them, he likes her. (Then, we wonder why so many abused women don’t leave – they’ve spent their entire lives being told that’s love). At the same time, boys (who are a generation being raised by women because of absentee fathers) are made to believe that “nice guys finish last.” And don’t even get me started on rape culture in the United States. In its most basic form, some “relationships” more closely resemble Stockholm Syndrome thanks to us being manipulated into thinking that’s what love is.

We, as a collective, are bombarded with manipulation every day and, often, we don’t even know it. It occurs with religion, philosophy, advertising, politics, and even entertainment. Let’s take a closer look at each.

Religion

How many times have you heard if you don’t believe in God and accept him as your Lord and Savior you’re damned to hell where you’ll spend all of eternity in a fiery pit? Too much? Well, consider this. There are several different religions, so how could we possibly know which one is right? What if you die and there are no Pearly Gates? What if you die and, instead of God, you’re met by Allah or Buddha? I don’t know about you, but I’m respectful of all religions because I don’t want to take the chance that there’s something other than God up there and I end up in hell based on a technicality.

Philosophy

We’re told to believe this, not that. Do this, not that. We don’t teach Creationism in some schools and Evolution in others. But, with so many different cultures, who’s to say what is right or wrong? Oh, right…

Advertising

I think Fight Club’s Tyler Durden said it best: “Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate, so we can buy shit we don’t need.” But this need for stuff starts so early it’s almost impossible to combat it as an adult. As a parent, you might dread receiving your child’s Christmas list because it will probably have sixty-three items and cost over $8,000. This is thanks to them being glued to a TV screen where they are subjected to ad after ad for the newest “must have” toys (like a stuffed animal that turns into – wait for it – another stuffed animal… and it’s probably selling like hotcakes). However, once you get the list you’ll buy what you can and go way over budget because that’s what you do to prepare for Christmas. (You, too, were programed to believe you need stuff). I mean, there is a reason candy bars are located next to the cash registers – so your kid will scream and cry for one until you give in and buy one (because we need to have one). While we’re on the subject of grocery stores, let me let you in on a few secrets: The food on end caps or displayed in the middle of the aisle is almost always more expensive than the SAME food in the original location. We’re manipulated into thinking we’re getting a deal, but, really, they take advantage of the fact that you’re too fucking lazy to walk three aisles over for a cheaper price. Also, most bottled water is tap water (straight out of a faucet) and they shrink food containers, but charge a higher price for them (check out ice cream containers).

Politics

The American public is so manipulated by the media, we don’t know what to believe. We have a president elect who hates women and was endorsed by the KKK because Hillary mishandled some e-mails. (Not making light of Benghazi, but that was truly why most people chose to support Trump over her). I could go on about this all day, but I won’t.

Entertainment

Let’s move on… Even our entertainment is manipulative (and not just in the literal sense). A magician or illusionist manipulates the audience using sleight of hand (object manipulation). A circus performer twirls (manipulates their body). Bartenders toss bottles and flirt for tips (object manipulation and flat-out manipulation). Fire performers manipulate flames (object manipulation). We can’t go anywhere or do anything without being manipulated and we don’t even realize it.

We have been led to believe, through manipulation, that we need a bigger house, a newer, better car, the newest iPhone (or tech). But for what? To out-do your neighbor or that snooty PTA mom? When you’re on your deathbed, will any of that matter? We’re all buried in a hole six feet in the ground. Why aren’t we being manipulated into doing things that actually matter, like helping others? Because helping others doesn’t make money. It doesn’t feed the insatiable greed of a society run by fat-cats who could care less about you, even though they need you to buy their products to fund their lux lifestyle. Meanwhile, there are people in the world with no food or clean drinking water who shit in a hole in the ground, but at least you got yet another watch or a sixty-inch flat screen with 900 channels (though you only watch five).

Obviously, I’m not trying to tell you to sell your home and move into the cabin in the woods where you can live off the land and use a composting toilet (unless you’re into that). But I am asking you to be more mindful of all the ways you’re being manipulated as you try to pry Walmart’s last Hatchimal out of another soccer mom’s death grip. Yes, we see you. You are a product of centuries of manipulation.

Note: This essay doesn’t necessarily reflect my personal beliefs (hell, I own an iPhone and I'm as guilty of being manipulated as anyone else). The goal of this was to manipulate your thoughts/feelings on or about a certain subject. If it did the aforementioned, as in you were manipulated through the course of reading this, the goal was met. That’s how easily we’re manipulated. So, consider yourself manipulated.

In the Queen’s garden we stand tall until the wind makes us shake

or the Queen’s voice makes us quake

as we shiver to the mighty roar of “OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”

until we can breathe after the Queen’s gone to bed.

Some of us drip “vulgar” red paint,

while others, frightened, faint.

Some are kept company by the guards.

(But oh, they can be such cards!)

We watch games of flamingo croquet

and spend our days

waiting to be free from the Queen’s tyranny

or just to be invited out for tea.

But, for us, it’s too late –

we missed an important date,

so we must suffer a most unfortunate fate…

We stay here and wait

as our paint dries

and listen to her cries

of “OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”

with deep dread and prepare for slumber in our earthy bed.

*Inspired by "Alice in Wonderland" and from the perspective of the roses.

I took a gamble and rolled the dice.

Death came to collect – not like a thief in the night,

but a welcomed friend.

I bargained for my fifteen minutes of fame.

While he reluctantly agreed, he never stopped following me.

Death was the fifth member of the band – for years he rode shotgun in the van.

Death, too, kissed every bottle-blonde stranger with harlot-red lipstick.

Death injected every needle with me, curled up against me in the bottom of every bottle.

Death swayed in the corner of every bar,

watching and waiting, until he could wait no longer.

Finally, he stole me away just before last call.

He carried me to his black, roaring hearse and wove through the city streets.

I watched the lights bleed together as they ran past me

and shielded myself from the bitter cold November air.

I began to close my eyes as he drove toward eternity.

You can sleep when you’re dead.

***This poem is a modern version of Emily Dickinson's "Because I Could Not Stop for Death" about a rock star whose lifestyle catches up with him.