I'm a regular follower of Katee Sackhoff's podcast. You may remember Katee as Starbuck, in the Battlestar Galactica reboot, or her role as Bo-Katan, in The Mandalorian. Her guests are typically longtime friends and former co-stars, such as Grant Gustin (The Flash), Lucy Lawless (Xena, BSG), Simon Pegg (Star Trek, Mission Impossible) and producer, Mike Flanagan (Oculus, Midnight Mass).
I just finished listening to her YouTube podcast interview with Paulina Porizkova. If that name rings a bell, she was a famous supermodel, in the 1980s, before marrying Ric Ocasek, lead singer of The Cars. For the most part, Paulina's efforts to be a devoted wife and mother were recognized by her husband — and the public, at large — but there were also cruel comments and insults, over the years, about her "trapping" a rich and famous celebrity into marriage, for her own personal gain.
In the interview, Katee, herself, recalled a longtime relationship that emotionally tested her, at every turn. According to Katee, her ex was demanding and cruel. Constantly gaslighted her, and tried to force her into a box of his own design, instead of letting her flourish and grow as an independent, freethinking woman.
This frank and honest discussion between two middle-aged women about their tumultuous history with abusive, high profile men gave me PTSD, as I recalled my own soul-crushing 10-year relationship with a broadcasting celebrity, here in Canada. I was 20 when he and I started dating. He was 30, divorced with two toddlers (not living with him) and had an ardent fan following who thought he could do no wrong (imagine a Canadian version of Dick Clark).
It was the late 1980s. I was a feisty little goth chick, with a potty mouth and a free spirit, who loved as passionately as I fought. I was happy in my career as a nightclub manager and had no real ambitions beyond that. But that wasn't good enough for...Oh, let's call him "Mike." He'd been a radio DJ since age 15. Overweight, nerdy and insecure, at first, he blossomed into a bona fide broadcasting celebrity by his mid 20s. Very good looking, very suave — but still horribly insecure. Although Mike was considered "creative talent" he almost exclusively socialized with the executive ranks in the entertainment industry. "The Suits" with whom he strategically ingratiated himself.
When Mike and I first starting dating, everyone was alarmed by our age difference — not to mention our social and financial inequality. People kept saying: "You're so lucky, you snagged such a hot celebrity." and, more often: "I know you're just using him for his money and connections, you little skank."
I thought I could rise above all the naysayers. But Mike, himself, was always quick to remind me that I was...less than. He tried, so very hard, to push me into adopting a more "respectable" public persona. Trash the red lipstick, high heels and black leather jackets in favour of pretty dresses (never above the knee), a simple hairstyle and kitten heels. Elevate myself to someone who knew how to schmooze with the execs and make him look good — while also fulfilling his every desire, in the bedroom.
He decided what job I could have, what family members I could associate with, what friends I could spend time with. I was absolutely forbidden to be alone in a room, with any man — married, single, gay or straight — so there would be no question of impropriety, in the eyes of his fans, coworkers and employers. For years, after our wedding, Mike hounded and harassed me into becoming the perfect, obedient Stepford Wife. The exciting and vivacious little firecracker that my friends once knew and loved had been replaced by a lost, anxious and depressed 25 year-old shadow of my former self (imagine going from Pat Benatar to Bree Van de Kamp, from Desperate Housewives).
As I inched closer to my 30th birthday (and he turned 40), Mike's career started to wane, while mine was really starting to take off. There was a 6-month waiting list to book me (actress, singer, voiceover artist) and I was regularly signing autographs. That's when Mike got really nasty, bitter and cruel. He never physically assaulted me, but his emotional and psychological abuse had me sobbing into my pillow, 25 nights out of every 30.
The final breaking point, for me, was when he deliberately sabotaged the trust and professional reliance that one of my biggest clients had in me, which very well could've ended my career. That's when I told Mike I was divorcing him — and kicked him out on his scrawny ass!
Finally free to be the woman I knew was still deep inside of me, my career — and income — skyrocketed beyond my wildest dreams. I became a hard news journalist, screenwriter, comic book writer, television producer and trusted aide to some of the most powerful people in Hollywood.
Success really is the BEST revenge! 😀
KJC
