The Pursuit of Happiness
Today is my 24th birthday and I am so fucking happy. I’m happy that I’m happy which just makes me so happy all over again. I am so happy because this time last year I had everything I thought I ever wanted, my boyfriend, my work, I had received an NSF-GRFP award. For an entire year, I had told myself that once I got all those things my life would be perfect and yet I had them and was miserable.
This may be TMI but here we go anyway because it is important to acknowledge personal relationships and their effects on your personal happiness and professional productivity. (Trigger warning: Emotional Abuse)
This time last year I was living with my (now ex)boyfriend. We had just celebrated our 3-year anniversary and the end of the long-distance part of our relationship. As many of you know I went to undergrad at Howard University in Washington D.C., he went to the University of Maryland at College Park. He was a year behind me in school (his fault due to poor grades. We should have been the same year; this is important to remember for later in the story).
This time last year I was getting ready to go to Los Angeles to get my epic lizard tattoo. It is my first and only tattoo and I really wanted my ex to share in the experience with me. I was paying for the hotel, food, and gas. All he had to do was drive. He did not understand why he needed to go or why I wanted him to share in the experience. The night before the trip I told him that he did not have to go after he expressed how unhappy he was at the thought of going. I was tired of his bitching and I did not want him to ruin my experience considering that this was my dream artist and she charged a dream price. I could also cancel the hotel and just stay with my mom if I went alone. He insisted that he would come lest he face my wrath when I returned. Needless to say, he ruined the mood of the weekend.

I would say that was the beginning of the end but so much had gone down before this. Starting when he stepped foot in Tucson.
I spent the months after my birthday depressed and not necessarily suicidal but I definitely did not want to exist in the world anymore. The pain was almost unbearable and began to manifest itself physically. However, I did my best to be strong and put on a smile for everyone I interacted with when in reality all I wanted to do was crumble into a million pieces.
I did not want to do anything. Often my friends would invite me to go out with them and spontaneously I’d break out in tears and need to go home. At work, I was easily irritable. I would have to give myself pep talks on the way in (If I even went in) to be nice to folks because they were not the ones causing my pain.
Mostly I just secluded myself from the world as much as possible. Until finally I decided enough was enough. I wasn’t going to beg for attention anymore. I wasn’t going to be belittled for giving a fuck about the people I care about. I was tired of being made to feel as if I was making up problems and just looking for reasons to be mad instead of him taking responsibility for his actions. I was so incredibly done feeling bad about working towards my dreams and goals and the fact that I went to grad school instead of waiting around D.C. doing who knows what until he graduated. I was so over feeling like I made him move to Arizona (he didn’t have to move and I even offered to not continue with the Ph.D. at UA and move wherever he wanted) and that I was worth less than the house his parents would have given him had he stayed in Maryland. I was not going to continue being emotionally abused.
While away at a conference and out of his mental hold, I told him that either I was moving out or he was. He could choose but I had already let the landlords know that someone was leaving at the end of the month.

Of course, he moved out because he couldn’t afford the rent on his own (he also felt a type a way that I made twice as much as he did) shoot I barely could. But the peace of mind that came with living alone was worth the double rent and more. I finally felt as if I could breathe again. I felt like I was finally able to exhale after sucking it in all in for all those years we were together, repressing my true self and performing the part he wanted of me.
I was nearing the end of my Master’s and I’d be damned if I let him ruin everything I had worked so hard for. I cried my last (mostly) tears and then I pulled myself together enough to finish my thesis and get through my defense. Then I moved out of the house we had rented together and onto my friend’s couch. During the following two weeks before my summer field season started, I cried the rest of my tears. I wasn’t anywhere close to being over the whole situation but life had to go on and I refused to let him hold me back and prevent me from doing my best. From living my best life.

At the end of it all, I had to constantly remind myself that I didn’t deserve the abuse even though I denied intense gut feelings that things with him weren’t right. I had to forgive myself for continuously giving him chances even though he clearly did not deserve or even want them. I had to go out and live life to realize that the world wasn’t ending just the one I had imagined with him and that was ok. I would continue on.
People always say that you forgive more for yourself, not for the other person. However, and I truly mean this from the bottom of my heart, FUCK him. I don’t forgive him. And I don’t know if I ever will.
I do, however, forgive myself for ignoring the warning signs because I was in love. I forgive myself for enduring his abuse because I thought his love for me would make him do right by me. I forgive me and I give myself permission to move on and be happy. I give myself permission to do what I need to do to protect myself which includes not extending my friendship to him post-breakup. He justified his abuse by claiming that I asked too much of him and that his actual friends and family didn’t expect so much of him. All that says to me is that if I continued to offer myself to him, platonically or romantically, he’d only continue to abuse me.
It is ok to not want to be friends with your abusers.
Just in case you needed permission to say FUCK them, you now have it.
Just in case you needed permission to forgive yourself, you now have it.
Just in case you needed permission to live your best life without them, you now have it.
I won’t say to never let someone dim your shine because my ex did not start off awful, in his own words he had the ability to trick me into staying with him. Instead, I encourage you to protect your peace and as soon as you feel it being threatened talk to close friends and family about the situation. If you don’t have that seek a therapist or other similar professional. Abusers love to make you feel as if you are making it all up. Seeking out other perspectives can help you figure out what the truth is when you can’t even trust your own eyes, ears, and intuition.
Eventually, with a mixture of therapy, being gentle with myself, and the support of my close friends and family, I began to heal. I am still healing. But I don’t cry anymore. I feel like Celie when she finally kicks Harpo’s bum ass to the curb. I am so happy and excited about life. And ready for the next set of adventures.
