I’ve never shared my full story about my abusive relationship with anyone, not even my past therapists, because I didn’t want to admit it out loud and make it real. But now I just need to do it for myself. I know a lot of people go through much worse abuse than me, and I’m lucky that mine wasn’t as bad as some, and it’s still left me with a lot of trauma and damage that needs to heal. My relationship started when I was 16. I was seriously such a baby. I was so naive and hopeful. I saw the good in everyone and was blind to the bad. I got involved with my boyfriend despite all of the warnings I got from so many people. Gradually, he became more mean and manipulative to me. He would do something really messed up and then apologize for it, playing the victim card in some way. He started using drugs heavily. He’d ignore me for days at a time while I begged him to come back to me. I’d stay up late worrying about him ending up in jail for the night because of the reckless things he would do high. All of my friends left me because he was an !**@! to them and I allowed it. I essentially was left with only him in my life. He had all of my passwords and my location, and I had his. When I wasn’t with him, I lived knowing he might be watching. If I interacted with another guy, he would question and attack me for the rest of the day. If I stood against him, he’d threaten to ruin my life or post my nudes. Sometimes he deleted all of my pictures on Instagram or reset my phone through find my iPhone, which deleted all of my pictures. My photos and memories are so important to me. This kind of thing made me feel so powerless. The year before meeting him, I had a 4.0 gpa. The next year I had Ds. I skipped so much school for him that I almost had to go to court for it. The school administrators, my friend’s parents, even the parents of people who I wasn’t even friends with, all knew about my abusive relationship with this infamous dirt bag. I felt like I was the center of the entire school’s gossip. I just wished everyone would stay out of it. He cheated on me at least four times during my last two years of high school. Every time this happened I knew that everyone at school was talking about me and him. I spent lunch in my car or the bathroom and avoided eye contact with everyone. Before this I had so many friends. He was periodically homeless and jobless because of his drug use, so I spent all of my money and time driving him around and buying him things. Three times when we argued in the car he punched my windshield and cracked it. Another time he kicked and dented my car. That car had gone to crap by the end of high school. He also shattered my phone three times, which made me terrified to face my parents. I couldn’t contact anyone without my phone and it was so expensive to fix. Toward the end of my senior year, he started to take steroids. This made his anger ten times worse. Whenever we hung out with another guy, I was terrified the entire time. I didn’t talk or look at the other guy unless he directly addressed me. Despite this, after leaving the group, my boyfriend would accuse me of flirting with him or staring at him and he’d verbally attack me. These arguments often became violent. He started punching me in the arm or the leg, leaving big bruises that I would have to hide or lie about. I developed a coping strategy for these episodes, which was to curl up and close my eyes and cover my ears, because anything I said would be met with outrage and violence. Of course, this also made him angry. Punching turned into choking. I remember one night he choked me to the point that I actually thought he might kill me. After that, he started crying and apologized profusely so I stupidly forgave him. This happened a few more times throughout the summer. Finally, he smashed my windshield for the last time. We were with a group of friends in my car, and I was dropping everyone off. I tried to drop him off first because I was terrified of being alone with him. I could tell he was angry and violent that night. He refused to get out of the car until I dropped our friends off, but I refused to because I was so scared. He made a huge scene and punched the windshield, smashing it. Another male friend had to pull him out of the car, and I dropped my other friends off, took the car home, and went straight to bed. This was the first time I told my parents the truth about how the windsheild was broken because I was determined not to get back with him. A week or two later, I gave in and started seeing him again. It was nearing the beginning of my first semester of college when I would move to a different state. After being back together for a while, we had a big argument over the phone and I broke up with him and blocked him on every method of contact I could. Then, he showed up to my back door. This was outrageous and unexpected because my parents hate him and banned him from the house. He never dared to try to come over because my parents would call the cops. After seeing him there, I tried locking the door, but I was too late. He came in and begged to talk to me. I was scared of course so I locked myself in my parents bathroom (no one was home) and he started trying to kick the door down. I came out because I didn’t want to explain the damage to my parents or have to replace the door. I tried running from him but he picked me up and held me so I couldn’t move. In this process, he stepped on my bare foot with his shoe and ripped my skin. I still have a scar from it. After being chased around the house and screaming and crying, I convinced him to call his mom to pick him up from my house by threatening to call the police (which I probably wouldn’t have done). After this I didn’t talk to him again for a long time. I knew that I could handle it because I was moving to college the next day. After that, he went to rehab and actually got clean. He started being a really nice person, who I always wished he would be, and after a month or so of talking we got back together. Then, he cheated on me again and we broke up. It’s been a shitty journey, though I’ve learned a lot. Abusive relationships are addictive. I was codependent and addicted to the intense emotions of it. No one around me knew how to help (except for my best friend who was there for me). Everyone was cold and judgmental, which isolated me and made it even harder to leave. I’m not blaming others for this, because I know that they tried. I just think that victims of abusive relationships need support and understanding. I know it was all over the place and probably confusing, but that’s my story and that’s the first time I’ve ever shared it. I think I want to help women who are or were in these situations. I know how much it hurts
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Tags: Drug Abuse
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