When I was 18 years old, I went to college. I left and traveled about five hours to my small college town. This is where I met this boy. He was what a typical boy would look like. Tall, skinny, bright blue eyes and extremely charming. He was so kind, very smart and like I said before, charming. Our relationship started out like any other one. He took me out on dates, he would walk me to class, we would talk about our futures and all the fun stuff.
On the second day of college, I lost my virginity. I knew him for two days. Back then, I didn’t think anything of it. Well, back then I didn’t think anything about anything really. He would be in my room, all the time. We had to have sex, all the time. I had to have sex three times a day, everyday. He would be around, all the time. He would walk me to class, all the time. He would come to lunch, dinner and everything in between. . . all the time. The key words I keep using are “all the time”. I thought wow I am so loved...
As months went by, he loved to express how much he “cared” about me. He needed to know where I was and what I was doing all the time because he wanted to make sure I was “alright”. I was not “supposed” to wear nice clothes or do my make-up or even do my hair. He said I look beautiful that way. I wore sweatpants, a t-shirt and my hair in a bun most days because that’s what “he liked”. He always wanted to walk with me to class, to the mailroom, to the gym because he “enjoyed” my company. He wanted to have sex a lot, because “he loved me”. He told me what “I wanted to hear” because I could “trust” him. I couldn’t go to parties alone because he wanted to “protect” me. If I spoke my mind or had something to say, he would “teach” me the correct thing to say or the right thing to think. He would punch things “around” me because he never truly wanted to “hurt” me. He just had a “loud voice”, he wasn’t “yelling” at me. He would hold my hand “tightly” to show his affection.
I was completely brain washed.
The words in quotes are what I thought all of the things he did meant. Turns out “cared” meant “controlled”. He needed to make sure I was “alright” was actually “stalking”. What I was “supposed” to wear was so I was “invisible” to everyone around me. What “he liked” was so I wouldn’t put in any “effort” in myself. He “enjoyed” my company? No. It was his way of “controlling my every move”. We always had to have sex because “he loved me” but in reality I was being “used as his personal sex-doll”. He was insecure and would go have sex with other girls anyway; I had no idea *cue eye roll*. He told me what “I wanted to hear” meant he was “lying to me the whole time and I couldn’t even tell”. “Trust” him? More like “question” him. I couldn’t go anywhere alone because he wanted to “protect” me; he wanted to “own” me. When he wouldn’t let me speak because he would “teach” me the correct things to say was his way of telling me my opinion and feelings “don’t matter”. Punching things “around” me so there were no “physical” signs of damage. He didn’t think he was scary. Having a “loud voice”? God, poor little innocent C, he was yelling “directly” in your face. “Tightly” holding my hand means I couldn’t “escape”.
Man, you thought I was going to leave after all that? No way. I thought we were SO healthy. . . I was trapped now. Months and more months went by until I was forcefully engaged to this “boy”. There are three things that you need to know about me before I explain this story.
1) I HATE being the center of attention.
2) I HATE embarrassing myself in public.
3) I HATE embarrassing others.
He did all three of those things in 3 minutes and 36 seconds. When he picked me up for a vacation with his family, he was in t-shirt and sweatpants (THAT CLASHED BY THE WAY). Anyway, not the point. The point being that I walked over to him as he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. Remember that 3 minutes and 36 seconds? Yeah. That is how long it took me to “forcefully” say yes to him. Now, when I say yes, I don’t mean jumping up and down, tears of joy, can’t wait to call my family, type of yes. I mean he gave me a hug and said, and I quote, “can you just say yes so we can get in the fucking car already?”
How romantic right? Every girl’s dream. . .
I cried in the car the whole way to our vacation. He asked if I was crying tears of joy. I said “I am crying tears of embarrassment.” Surprised I didn’t get hit then.
This is important to understand. He used my three signs of weakness to make sure I said yes. He knew I hated being the center of attention and hated embarrassing myself and others. And to top it all off, I was going on vacation with his WHOLE family for a week. . . You think I would have survived if I said no? I would be at the bottom of the lake by now. Oh, by the way, I was not allowed to tell anyone about our engagement. . .
Everyone knew about our engagement when I got back to college. My roommate from college knew. She was mad. Not just mad, but like pissed. We fought. I cried. She yelled. I lied. She yelled more. Finally, she asked me a question that NO ONE has ever asked me before...
I started to cry. A lot. And then I shook my head, yes. She hugged me for a while. She told me I had to get out of this relationship as soon as I possibly can. I knew I couldn’t do it alone. We did it in the safest way possible. I had friends nearby and I did it in a public area. I met up with him and I told him that I was finally going to speak and he was going to listen. I was scared, but I was also brave. I told him all the pain and suffering he caused me for a year.
I was free.
It felt as though I took off a pair of handcuffs.
I slept for over 12 hours.
The lesson about my toxic relationship: This was a long story. This was a hard story to tell. I am still working on myself to this day and I am 24. I have a lot of triggers now. I flinch sometimes if someone gets too close. It is hard for me to express my feelings. I feel as though I am being watched. Sometimes, sex hurts. Sex didn’t feel like love and I fear of being used. I sometimes believe he will still try to find me. There was a lot of abuse. Mostly mental abuse. There was some physical abuse. There was sexual abuse.
I have anxiety. I have depression. I struggle with personality disorder /bi-polar disorder.
I count myself as a survivor of domestic violence, one hundred percent. The reason I tell my story is not to get sympathy. It is not to make people feel bad for me. I tell my story because I want to help people. I want people to understand that they aren’t alone. I also want people to understand that “domestic violence” isn’t just in the form of physical abuse. Domestic violence is what I went through right there. It is emotional, mental abuse. It is sexual abuse and advantage. It is more than just physical damage. I applaud anyone that has gone through a situation that I have gone through or any type of domestic violence and is a survivor. They conquered their fear. They fought back and won. They struggle some days but are brave and strong most days.
You are not alone. I am here for you. We are here for you.
Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
Or
Text LOVEIS to 1-866-331-9474
