You can’t choose who you love, but you can choose who you are with.
The following post is an anonymous submission. In the theme of my blog I want to shed light on things that we often don’t think about. Things that we don’t often think someone else is experiencing. Psychological abuse aka Emotional abuse is a real thing. It’s a thing that can affect anyone. Know the signs. Talk to someone, and please always, know you’re loved.
I am in an abusive relationship. Well, sort of. He’s not talking to me right now because I didn’t behave as he told me to. I have no idea how long this hiatus will last, but it’s never more than a few weeks… Every night I go to bed and wonder if tonight is going to be the night he texts me and asks me to come over… at 3 or 4 am, when we both have to be at work at 8am. I’m not stupid, or naïve, I know what it means when he texts me that late.
I met, we’ll call him Lucious, through a mutual friend. Our relationship began to grow as my job opportunities within my company expanded, which as it turns out, meant that our paths began to cross more often. At the time that I began to become familiar with Lucious, I was in the very beginning stages of separation from my husband. He left me, seemingly out of nowhere, a day before my birthday and a month before our 5-year wedding anniversary. I was understandably devastated and in a very emotionally vulnerable place when the seeds of my relationship with Lucious were planted.
As time went on, we began to talk more frequently at work about our lives. I told him about my separation and likely divorce and he told me about how he had not been in a relationship for almost 2 years. I was adamant about not “jumping into another relationship” as I had previously watched my sister do something similar during her divorce and I have always made a point to never do anything my sister does. Four months after my husband left, Lucious and I decided to spend Valentine’s Day together. Not out of any romantic interest, just as two mutually single individuals, as coworkers, who didn’t want to go out to eat alone that day. We went to a fairly romantic restaurant as it was one of my favorites and he had never been there before. He was 2.5 hours late and I was 2.5 glasses of wine tipsy by the time he got there. We had a very lovely evening and made it awkwardly clear to the servers that we were “just coworkers and nothing more.” We both went home alone, convinced that we had truly made a new friend.
Within a month, we began sleeping together. That first night was everything a good romance novel imagines – passionate, full of temptation and nervousness; the sexual chemistry was palpable. The next day, we were both slated to be out of town for the weekend so we planned to see each other on Sunday; he said he wanted to come over and make me dinner. He called me on Saturday from a family member’s phone because his didn’t have service where he was, just to check in and tell me he was thinking about me. I was over the moon and looking back now, I know I was beginning to fall.
I never did get that meal he promised to cook.
Over the next few months, our sexual relationship continued. After a few weeks of sleeping together, he told me he was falling for me. A week later, he stopped talking to me for two weeks because I refused him when he wanted to come over at midnight in the middle of the week because I was tired and on my period. I instead asked if he could come over the next night (a Friday), so we could snuggle and watch movies. I didn’t hear from him for two weeks because I was “on restriction” – I found that out after the two weeks when he began talking to me again. A week or so after that, he broke things off with me over text message because I was unable to afford to buy him a coffee table he wanted for his new apartment. He says it’s because I “wasn’t there for him.”
He told me he only said that because he wanted to see how I would react. I told him I cried and
spent the entire last day of my mini-vacation back home to visit family curled up in my old bedroom, isolating myself from everyone, trying to wrap my head around what was happening. He didn’t apologize and I didn’t ask for one; I was just happy we were back together. A week later he told me he loved me; I loved him too.
I began to feel guilty and inadequate. Every time I told him something, he would ask me why I did it that way instead of this way or why I did it at all. He told me I “never listen” – I’m a mental health counselor – I literally get paid to listen to people for a living (and I am really good at what I do). He told me I was never there for him but I immediately responded to every text he sent and gave him money every time he asked. I never refused him when he asked to see me late at night again – I knew the consequences if I did. I would ask him to see me, he would ignore me and then tell me I was “trying too hard” when he was ready to talk to me. I would make a point to give him space and then he would tell me that I made him feel like he was “just an afterthought” or that I didn’t make enough effort to see him. I never knew how much effort was the right amount. I just wanted to do what he wanted me to do – to be who he wanted me to be.
Every time we saw each other – which became more and more irregular as time went on, was the same. We spent a significant amount of time “talking” – which was really just him continuing to berate me for how I had “done him wrong.” I never spoke up; I never fought back. I sat there, like a small child, waiting for him to finish. Once he finished, he would begin to kiss me, and we’d have sex. Even the sex changed. What started as something passionate, fun, and full of foreplay, began to feel one-sided. It’s not that my sexual needs weren’t met, but they never seemed to be as important as his.
I went back to therapy. I told my counselor that I felt like my feelings were dismissed and that I “expected to be let down” by him. My counselor challenged me to really consider what that says about the relationship. My best friends began questioning our “relationship” – hinting that it wasn’t healthy. Eventually as I began showing them the numerous text messages, they straight up called it out for what it was (and is) – abuse.
Slowly but surely I began making small attempts to be more assertive. I requested from him multiple times that if he wanted to see me, he should ask to do so before 10pm. He didn’t do that. Instead, he began texting me later and later in the evening. What started out 4 months prior around 10:30 or 11pm began to slowly shift to midnight, 2am, 4am, and so on; I allowed this anyway because I feared the consequences.
I finally said “no” when he asked me to come over at 6am. He lives clear across town and I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to have sex and get ready for work to be there on time. I chose my job over him. Later that day, he texted me to break things off again. When I had the audacity to fight back, to tell him how I felt, to say that our relationship was unhealthy and he was abusive, he dismissed my feelings and called me crazy. He ended this conversation with “I c y he left u” – referring to my husband.
I drank a lot of wine that night.
I called out of work the next day.
I spent the weekend alone in bed, hiding from the world.
I moved to a new apartment.
I started trying to find a replacement or a distraction on Tinder.
I went on a terrible date.
I found someone else and slept with them.
He eventually contacted me through Facebook. I unblocked his number. He asked to come over, I said no. He got mad and hung up. He texted later and asked again if we could talk. I finally said yes and told him where I lived. He came over, reminded me of all the things I had “done wrong.” He kept putting my hand on his dick; I pulled it away but he kept forcing it back. I eventually gave in and we had sex. After he finished, he asked me what I was doing that weekend. I told him I had plans to meet a male friend in another town 45min away. He got dressed and left – without a single kiss or a kind word.
I slept with that guy from Tinder in another town.
He texted me at 4am the night of my date to see what I was doing. I didn’t respond. I texted him when I left at 7am saying that I was sleeping and that’s why I didn’t respond earlier. He called me and demanded to know if I had sex. I told him it was none of his business as he had made it very clear we were not in a committed relationship. He hung up in my face. He called back and demanded to know what happened. I told him. He hung up again and texted me. He told me I was a “nothing ass bitch” that I was “so selfish” and “nasty” to him now. I responded with “ok.”
I wanted this time to be different.
I wanted to change the dynamic.
I wanted to feel in control.
He continued to berate me. He continued to tell me I don’t listen, that I’m selfish, and that I’m never there for him. He continued to tell me I did him wrong. He wanted me to quit talking to my friends about him. He said it made him feel like “less than a man” when they knew “his business.” He continued to ask me for material goods and get mad when I wasn’t able to give them, using it as another example of how I don’t do right by him – that I never follow through or put his needs first. He told me my feelings were wrong when I told him about a recent situation with the ex-husband that made me very upset. He sided with and defended the husband. He continued to only come over or text me after midnight. He left right after sex. He stopped talking to me again when I refused to handle a situation between me and another person the way he wanted me to.
I continued to listen. I continued to feel guilty and inadequate. I continued to question my ability to maintain romantic relationships – my self-worth. I stopped crying. Instead, I just felt numb.
He’s still not talking to me.
I hope we don’t get back together.
But I know I can’t say “no.”
If you or anyone you know are suffering from emotional abuse, KNOW that you aren’t alone. KNOW that you have someone that is willing to listen and help you through. It’s not an easy road, but you can overcome.
