I dated someone once for 7 years on and off, first time we met I was 13, and the last time I saw him was almost 3 years ago, but let me explain.
At 13 I met this person, coming from a broken home it was honestly the first time I had ever experienced love. Or so I thought. We broke up a year later because I was so ashamed of my home life that I created a lie about a perfect life thinking he would never want to meet my actual parents, I was wrong, he found out the truth and couldnât have slammed the door harder when he walked away. Fast forward to a year and half later I was sitting on a porch at 3 am smoking a cigarette and I thought to myself âI wonder if he would respond nowâ he did. And to this day I wish he hadnât. We reconnected, and for the next 5 years it was one of the worst experiences Iâve ever had. And I stayed because I kept telling myself âyou love him, he loves you, maybe this is normal.â The reality about it was that he would wake me up constantly to remind me how unworthy I was, I wasnât allowed to text anyone, I had to live in his parents house, under his total control, I was constantly accused every single day of being a liar and cheater. I was pulled out of showers, phones broken, bones broken. Woke up at 3 am being told that he didnât think I would be here for him and to walk 3 miles in the cold rain to a gas station to get a ride home. Iâve been slapped, choked, hit with anything available, dragged, abandoned, screamed at and beaten down. I was told to cover the bruises, keep it quiet or heâd kill me. 5 years, Iâll admit I left a few times, but I kept going back because I would believe that he would change when he said he had worked on. And Iâm sure there were some good moments but the funny thing is I can only remember is the pain. I believed the false promises that he would work on his anger and control issues and we would go on to be that high school sweetheart couple. There wasnât really a lot sweet about it to be completely honest. It honestly got to one point, where when we would have sex I would pretend I wasnât there, close my eyes and just think of somewhere safe. On the day I felt completely disconnected it was a nice warm Florida day. I was showering, when I came out I was greeted immediately by the accusation âyouâre a fucking liar, I knew I couldnât trust you.â My phone in his hand, I had dropped off my exâs w2 the day before because it was delivered to my grandmothers house, I told him I had done that. But he was so fucking high he didnât even remember. And so on that day he called the number in my phone to which my ex answered, and thus proceeded to attack me out of the shower. I immediately got quiet because I knew, if I responded âit would just get worse so shut upâ. He took my phone into the kitchen and shattered it on the tile, I immediately dropped to the floor thinking âokay well now whatâ he came up to me grabbed my hair screaming at me and drug me into his room âso I wouldnât bother his parents because I always ruin their dayâ and threw me against the dresser, screaming at me throwing things at me telling me to get the fuck out. As I got up, literally draped in a towel and went to walk past him to leave he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall, he had a grip so hard on my arms I couldnât feel my fingers, head butted me several times and then told me âgive me a fucking hug, youâre going to really leave me you fucking bitch you never loved me, Iâm not letting you leave.â Grabbed me and squeezed me so hard it broke my collarbone. Me screaming in pain was my savior, his mom came to my rescue, pushed him off of me and I will never forget the fear in her eyes when she said âgo, Stephanie, go nowâ I ran to my car and left. I remember crying the whole way to my grandmas house, no phone, no one there for me just alone. I remember feeling like I caused this, blaming myself. If I had just told him again, if I just mailed the w2 instead of meeting in a public place. If I had just been a better person.
I pressed charges. But they let him out and told me bruises werenât enough to send him to prison, âthink before you ruin someoneâs lifeâ and so I rebuilt my whole life. I lost myself then, but eventually I found parts of me again. Sometimes to this day I find myself placing the blame on me, But to be honest that the abuse talking, all these years later. All i can remember in those 7 years is how it felt, and the pain attached to it. I was scared for my life so many times until I honestly didnât care anymore because I convinced myself this was it for me. The suicide attempts to get away from it. The scars I still have that I have covered in ink, or donât respond to when questioned about it. The ptsd. Thatâs what I remember now, And thatâs okay. It was such a big lesson.
And so you ask why now? Why bring it up now? Just move on? Just let it go? Well. Because I never told anyone, I always protected his name even after. And I need to get it down, and at this point in my life I feel healed from it enough to be able to finally speak.
We all go through things. Invalidating ones experiences because you went through something isnât okay. We are all healing. We are all the safe to something so brutal no matter the size. Itâs all a part of the healing process, so donât discredit someone elseâs experiences because they are different from your own.
gummygunk
stormborns
izzy806
romaincrisis
origamiaround
