It was the night before Valentine’s Day, freshman year of
college and I lay in my dorm room watching the clock. With every breath I took,
my heart sank deeper. He should be back by now, 10:34 PM…11:27PM...2:05AM.
Then around 3:30 AM, Shawn busted in the room, laughing
to himself. He hopped into bed next to me. “Baby, you have no idea, this night
was crazyyyyy!” His breath reeked of beer so I turned my back to him. “I wish
you had been back by now,” I said disappointed, “I thought we were going to
spend Valentine’s night together.” I held my breath, waiting for him to say
something. I counted my pictures of my friends and family I had hung on the
wall. “You always do this,” he slurred, his tone becoming more serious. “I can
never have a good time with you, you ruined my night, and you always do!” By
now he was screaming.
I just
missed you. Please don’t get mad, forget what I just said, please don’t get
mad.
“You hung
out with the guys last night, I thought this night would be reserved for me,” I
pleaded with him as he sat on the edge of the bed putting his dirty running
shoes, his “drinking shoes” back on. He then got up, and grabbed the red bin he
stored under my twin bed. It was full of various things of his, shirts, shorts,
love notes I wrote to him. As he opened the door to leave, he also grabbed an
envelope off of my dresser. It was full of cut up slips of paper I made him for
Valentine’s Day. Each slip contained a reason why I loved him. I spent an hour
making it for him: cutting out each slip, typing up the reasons, and even
colored an elephant out of hearts which I taped to the front.
Please
don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone.
Tears
started falling down my face. Their warmth comforted me. I followed him out to
the hallway where he stood waiting by the elevator. “You’re such an idiot; I
can never have a good time,” he slurred again. “I’m sorry!” I pleaded, trying
to embrace him, but he kept pushing me away like I was some sort of beggar,
pleading for his riches. “That’s why your ex before me left you and that’s why
you dad is never around. You can’t have fun and you’re annoying.” He snatched
the Valentine’s Day envelope off of the top of his bin. He grabbed a handful of
the slips, ripped them to pieces and threw some in my face saving the rest for
the top of my head.
I numbly
watched “I love you because you make me laugh” flutter to the ground.
Nights
like that happened all the time. Our arguments differed from night to night,
weekend to weekend, but the premise of the emotional abuse was still the same.
Putting me down, name calling, belittling, and mind games all made up the
emotional abuse I endured my freshman and sophomore year of college. Most of
the time he was drunk, but there were times we would fight and he’d call me an
idiot or tell me how annoying I was. He made me believe that I was the one causing the problems in the
relationship. He would threaten to leave me and call me in the
middle of the night screaming for no reason, telling me how ugly and dumb I
was. Once when I cried in bed next to him after a fight he told me I was
“weak”.
Most of
the time, he would yell in private, but as the relationship went on, people
would frequently hear us arguing (dorm walls are paper thin) and there was only
so much I could do to hide my constant tears. Surprisingly, only my close
friends and family told me to leave. Because everyone else at the time was
mostly friends with both of us, no one really said anything.
But
things weren’t always bad. In fact, they started off great. He was sweet and
romantic and my family loved him. Unfortunately, when he found his independence
and as we became more comfortable around each other, he started to become
hurtful. It started with him getting upset for no reason when he was drunk, but
then the name calling escalated with each fight. It seems like the red flags
were obvious, but I think the fact that he wasn’t always hurtful made leaving
him harder for me than the abuse itself. I was attached, and I had seen a
person in him that was capable of being a wonderful boyfriend. I couldn’t let
go of that person who was clearly gone. When my friends and family started to
see how unhappy I was, I began to pull away from them. They’d tell me that I
needed to leave the relationship, but I didn’t have the strength. Instead, I
even hid the relationship from some people, including my parents. My self-worth was so low, that at that point
in my life, I’d rather endure abuse than be alone.
Unfortunately,
every time he would break up with me or when I tried to leave him, he always
came back. One moment he would call and say he didn’t love me anymore and a
week later he would be begging for my forgiveness because he “made a mistake.”
He would call me crying, buy me jewelry, write love letters, and even beg at my
feet for me to take him back. Each time, he swore he would change, and I
believed him. A part of me felt that he would wake up one day and be the person
he used to be. Sadly, every time he promised to change, he’d be nice for a week
or a month– kind, funny, sweet- but then he was back to his same hurtful self.
When I asked him to go to counseling, he refused. I also begged him to stop
drinking thinking that would help, but he didn’t.
I felt
ashamed that I couldn’t leave. My mother raised me to be an independent woman –
a woman that would never let someone treat her poorly. Yet I still couldn’t
leave. I felt that I had let
everyone down, including myself. After months of being called names and
yelled at or ignored, told I would never find anyone else, the abuse did turn
physical when my boyfriend started to push and slap.
I still didn’t tell anyone.
I stayed
with him, because once again, he cried and said that would never happen again.
The month after was actually not bad. He didn’t call me any names and never
laid a hand on me. He was nice when he drank and told me he loved me every day.
But when I invited him to reconcile with my parents, something in him changed.
The week he was supposed to come, he called me to tell me that he had been
seeing a counselor since the incident and that he wanted to do his own thing.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be with me anymore. I was absolutely taken off
guard and devastated, but I didn’t want to force someone to be with me. I told
him to do what he wanted, that I deserved better, and then hung up the phone. I
was just mentally and emotionally exhausted.
The
months after the final break up (it was June when it happened) were hard and
easy at the same time. It may not make sense, but there were times that I was
completely drained from the relationship that I was happy to finally be able to
start new. Other times, I felt lonely and worthless. After everything I put up
with, I was still thrown away. Other times, I was just angry. Angry at him for
treating me bad, but mostly angry at myself to not listening to people that
loved me and not leaving sooner.
Luckily
for me, I have family and friends that kept me busy and happy. I even donated
my hair to Locks of Love and it made me feel important and special again. When
school started it was hard as I thought about the good times we had, but I
tried my best to remember the bad times, not because I wanted to get sad, but
because I needed a reminder to
stay positive. As time went on, it got easier. I didn’t cry anymore.
In
October, I began talking to one of my best guy friends on a daily basis. He was
one of the close friends that were there for me throughout this ordeal, every
step of the way. And I began to see him in a new light. He was funny, nice, and
thoughtful. If I was having a bad day, he’d ask me what’s wrong. He truly cared
about my feelings and I wasn’t used to that.
After a
couple more months, my best guy friend and I started dating. I never expected
to love anyone as much as I loved my ex, but I was wrong. I tell people that it
took some getting used to be treated properly, but I honestly couldn’t believe
what I used to put up with now. When my new boyfriend and I fight, we talk
things out, and he never says anything mean. I have moments where I feel that I
don’t deserve him because I’m “damaged,” but he’s been helping me feel better
about myself by telling me that any guy would be lucky to have me and telling
me that I’m beautiful.
It’s been
exactly a year since my ex and I spoke. Although he’s tried to contact me many
times, I’ve made sure to ignore him. He even called me three times once and
threatened to hurt himself if I didn’t answer. I stayed strong. One of my
friends told me that I don’t need that poison in my life, and she’s right. I
make sure to cut him out completely. It’s helped me heal as well. And I can
truly say that I don’t want him anymore. Not only because I have someone new,
but because being away from the hurt has allowed me to see that there is so
much better out there. Some friends have also told me that he’s still angry and
mean when drunk.
Emotional abuse gets pushed under the rug because no
one really sees the effects. And it’s easier to
justify words than bruises, but they both hurt equally, and they’re both
unhealthy. No one deserves to be degraded or to have someone put them down. As
far as being a victim goes, it can happen to anyone. I used to be the girl that
pitied abused women because I thought I was better than that. But abuse isn’t
always obvious. Because my boyfriend wasn’t always abusive, I was already in
love with him when the abuse began. You can be the strongest person, but
sometimes you love someone too much to notice that they’re hurting you – or
admit it.
There are times that I feel embarrassed for letting myself go through
emotional abuse, but I remember to tell myself that I’m stronger because of it. If you
find people to help you take steps to get out of it or take positive steps to
regain your self-esteem, breaking the cycle of abuse will be easier. When I was
with my ex, I’d give anything for someone to understand why I stayed. And I do
understand. But I also understand now that it’s more important to put yourself
first. You are a person worthy of more than put downs and abuse. It’s going to
take some time and you’re going to be hurting for a little, but I guarantee you
something. You will come out
stronger. You will be okay.
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