Strength

I’ve always been the kind of girl who knew what she wanted. I said that I was strong and that I could make my own decisions, and I knew what was best for me. But what I want, is not at all what I got.

It started off in my freshman year. I didn’t know any of the upperclassmen, and I tended to isolate myself. Not that I was being ignored or purposely cast out, I was just horrifically shy. And when he told me he liked me, I thought it was one of the greatest things that could possibly have happened to me, and suddenly, I was in a relationship.

Sometimes it was great, we would go on dates and laugh and have fun, but then he started getting dictatorial. He forbade me from seeing my best friend, saying she was no good for me. He told me I couldn’t wear makeup or high heels, and said that if I didn’t dress the way he wanted me to, it showed I didn’t love him. He would scream and yell at me when I did nothing wrong, and blame me for all his problems. He made me believe it was my fault. He would get angry over something as small as turning the TV on when he didn’t want to watch it. Then told me I should have known what he wanted. And suddenly I was in such a deep dark pit that I could no longer crawl out. I couldn’t even see a glimpse of light. He told me that no one could ever love me, and I believed him.

When it turned from emotional abuse to physical abuse, I said to myself it was over. And I told him that I didn’t want to be in this relationship. I thought that I had finally seen the light. I would no longer deal with him grasping too hard and leaving me bruised. I wouldn’t deal with him pushing me around the room. I wouldn’t deal with him holding me down and not letting me move. I wouldn’t deal with him forcing himself upon me. But he told me that I was being unfair. He said that he had anger management issues that weren’t his fault and I was a bitch for even considering leaving someone for their mental disorder. He said he was working on his issues, and it was my responsibility to stay with him while he worked them out. He said I was the only good thing in his life. And worst of all, he said if I broke up with him, he would kill himself, and it would be completely my fault that he took his life.

And so I crawled back into my hole.

I said to myself I was doing a good thing. I said that I was helping him, and I could handle the sacrifice. And he told me that I was looking for the perfect relationship, which was impossible. He said that I was making a big deal out of nothing and that this was a part of every relationship. And for a while I really did believe him.

I said I would deal with the sacrifice. I let him kick me to get out the day’s frustrations. I let him ignore me because he had more important things to think about then my day.

But it wasn’t my feeling worthless that opened my eyes.

The turning point was fear. It was one rainy afternoon when I was hopelessly running down the road trying to get away from him. An afternoon that ended in him pushing me down into the road, with him balling his fists and pouncing on me, and my finally getting the help I need, and shakily dialing 911. It ended with us separated by 3 state trooper cars as I sobbed in my driveway, and they told him not to contact me again.

I had never had the strength to fight back, I never had the strength to say no…

I finally found the strength to leave.