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From a very young age, girls are told stories about princes and princesses, love at first sight, first kisses, and so much more. We seem to get this idea in our heads that one day, our very own prince charming will arrive on our front door step- bouquet of roses and corsage in hand- and stand frozen, completely taken away by our beauty, and watch as we gracefully make our movie scene entrance down a staircase in slow motion. We read about it in books, see it in movies and on TV, and dream about it every night. No one ever stops to tell us that this story is just that- a story. For some girls, what once appeared to be a fairytale love story come true can suddenly turn into a dangerous nightmare.
When you fall in love for the first time, you fall hard. The phrase "Love is Blind" works perfectly for these relationships, because you really don't notice anything until it's too late, or already over. It's so easy to get caught up in what you want something to be, like in the fairytales, and forget about what's real.
Towards the end of high school, I met who I thought was my Prince Charming. Things happened very quickly, and before I knew it I was completely head over heels, in too deep. At first, he seemed like the perfect guy! He had a big, happy family, good grades, played sports, and high ambitions for his future. He was everything I ever wanted- so I thought. He even had a little sister, about 1 year old, that he adored and was so good to. I fell in love with him, and cared for nothing else.
At first, he was so perfect. He opened doors for me, surprised me with little things like flowers and my favorite candy, and always wanted to spend time with me. But after a few months of perfection, things got a little intense. Sex became the most important aspect of our relationship for him, and he made that very clear. If I was tired, or said no for any reason, he made it into a huge deal and would make me feel guilty, and eventually I’d give in. He began to slowly break me down into a person I didn't even recognize. I was always a strong, independent person who wasn't afraid to speak her mind or stand her ground. He made me forget that person. He had me skipping classes to go have sex with him, or else we'd be in a huge fight and he wouldn't talk to me. He got me to lie to my parents, my boss, my teachers, and even myself. All the while I told myself how much he loves me and how perfect we were- I was living in an alternate universe. One I had created to avoid the pain of the reality. I began to feel like I needed him, like I could not be without him. Nothing else mattered but being with him. So when he left for college, I broke apart completely, and things got worse. I wasn't allowed to have guy friends, or even go out with my regular friends. If he wanted me to spend two weeks with him, then I had to put everything in my life on hold to do so. And I did. I threw my life under the bus and put him first.
My friends and parents were telling me to leave him for the longest time and how awful he treated me, but I never listened. I never saw it. It wasn't until about 6 months after we ended contact that I fully realized the extent of the abuse. Once while I was visiting him, he wouldn't hold my hand because "he needed it to help him walk." Another time, he said the same two words that didn't make sense over and over again, and kept laughing when I got frustrated. Anything I asked him or said to him, he responded with those two words. I'm not even sure what they were, but this lasted for about an entire day. He was isolating me and playing games with my head. He used to say things like “I don’t even like you” or “why am I even with you” in a sort of playful, mean way. He was tormenting me and making me believe that I’m lucky even to have him, among other things. I cried myself to sleep endlessly. If he saw me crying or tearing up, he'd grab me and tell me how I'm so immature and controlling. He would make me feel like the bad guy and I would end up apologizing and begging for forgiveness. He cheated on me one weekend when I wasn't allowed to go up, and I felt as if my world had ended. The pain was indescribable. I broke up with him and stayed in bed for days. The relationship I once had with my parents was hanging by a thread, and I had hardly any friends. So when he called me a few days later begging for me to take him back, making promises left and right, I did. I didn’t think anyone else would ever want me. I was “broken.” Damaged goods. It was sick. Things became so much worse. I went up to see him the next weekend and he pretended like nothing had happened. The second day there, he stabbed me with a pencil for something I had said that upset him, and lodged and piece of lead in my arm. I stared down in horror at my bleeding arm and I had absolutely no idea what to do or say. I managed to choke out, "I'm bleeding" to which he replied, "Good!" He yanked me by my other arm and dragged me behind his classroom building and said "see what you make me do?!" I couldn't even cry. I was so drained. He was gripping my arm so tight I ended up with welts and painful bruises. I was non-responsive towards him, in complete shock, and this only increased his anger. He slammed me against the wall and paced back and forth, ready to explode. I knew I needed a doctor to avoid an infection, as well as to get the large chunk out, but I was terrified to say anything. I wanted to run away. He had hit me and thrown me around before, but never like this. No one was around, and I felt as if I was completely alone. I couldn't turn to anyone because he would be furious, and probably leave me. Those were the thoughts running through my mind! Unbelievable. I should have run. He verbally abused me for the next half hour or so, and then decided on an elaborate lie and took me to the doctor. He told everyone the lie so that if I said anything else, they would think I was crazy.
At this point, I was beginning to realize that I needed help. I wanted out. I told him that we should take a break and blamed it on the long distance, and he went ballistic. The verbal and mental abuse was overwhelming, and every time he moved I shuddered, afraid he would hurt me. He threw things and yelled and finally kicked me out with nowhere to go. I had a train ticket for the next morning to go home, but that was hours away.
I sat on a bench in a small park and waited. I'm not sure what I was waiting for, but what came was far better. I saw some kind of an event going on across the park, but I hadn't felt like investigating until I saw someone walk by with a bag that said "Help is available, you are not alone." I began to cry, and feel outraged with myself. I couldn't believe I had a bandage on my arm, I couldn't believe I hadn't told anyone, and I couldn't believe it had been almost a year that I'd been crying about it all. I beat myself up over countless things and not ONCE did I blame him or think hatefully towards him. He had reprogrammed my brain. With tears still in my red, puffy eyes, I walked over to the table where the bag came from and tried to compose myself. I just wanted to get a number or an email to hold on to, just to have it. A young woman wearing a shirt with the same phrase, immediately came over and put her arm around my shoulder and escorted me away from the crowd. I instantly began to sob. She didn't even say anything, she was just there. Without even asking any questions, she told me everything would be alright, and that I wasn't alone. I could barely get myself to tell her anything, and she could tell. She told me her story, which was similar to mine but with more physical abuse. After talking for a while, she went with me to get my things from my boyfriend’s room (luckily only his roommates were there), and took me back to her place. She told me all about the program she started to help young girls in abusive relationships and about how she got out of hers. She helped me to get on the right track. Or at least to be able to see where the right track began.. It was so scary to hear how similar the stories were. The excuses they made for the boys, the lies they told themselves, the things the guys said, everything! It was unreal to think that other girls were dealing with the same things… It felt like I was opening my eyes for the first time. That maybe I could have another life…
The next few weeks were the hardest, but I had the support of my family and friends who had stayed by my side. Therapy helped me see things for how they were, and how to help myself recover. I had good days and bad days. However, sometimes I would have a "relapse" and wake up feeling empty, cry, call him and beg him to fix things, and start all over again. But in the end I never went back to him, and I haven't seen him since. He tried contacting me, threatening me, and harassing me, but my parents took care of it so that I could rebuild my life.
It was the longest, hardest, and most painful process. Almost three years later, and it still affects me to some degree. I can proudly say I feel like me again, and I will never let something like that happen again. Although I still have a few scars (emotionally and mentally) I am for the most part back to myself. I wanted to give up trying so many times, I wanted to just take him back and deal with that pain rather than the pain from the loss. Eventually I stopped myself from any and all communication, and then soon he did too. I felt like the pain would never go away. With support, therapy, and lots of trial and error, I finally overcame it all. And it wasn't easy. I deleted him from every aspect of my life. Every trace of him. Soon I had no more tears to cry, and I began to understand that I should never cried any tears for him in the first place.
I share my story whenever I feel it might help someone, in hopes that they too can realize that they are not alone, and there are so many forms of abuse. Sometimes we don't even realize we're being abused until it's too late. Some girls find themselves trapped in these relationships and tell themselves the same lies, and decide that living like that is better than living without him. Escaping that kind of relationship is not easy, and not something to be done alone. I pray that my story can help other girls, and that one day their story will be an inspiration too.
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