My Experience With Emotional Abuse.

Content Warning: This post contains heavy references to emotional abuse. Please refrain from reading if you are sensitive towards this particular topic.

I was on Tumblr this past Sunday morning reblogging posts about emotional abuse. It was a fairly new topic that was introduced to me in the past few months. I didn’t know such a thing existed until recently. For the longest time, I thought “bullying” was the right term for it.

Minutes after I reblogged a handful of posts, my ex texted me and told me we shouldn’t keep in contact anymore, and that this just “wasn’t working” (Even though we had been fairly civil and amicable with each other this past week). I didn’t even have to ask why, because they barreled into a full explanation: They knew that my reblogs about emotional abuse were in direct correlation with them and the way they have been treating me. Even though I never mentioned their name or made any direct reference to them when reblogging those posts, they accused me of spreading word about them being an abuser. I tried to tell them that even though these reblogs did involve them in a very indirect way, I wasn’t doing it for malicious purposes, and I wasn’t trying to taint their name with slander (Again, I didn’t directly reference them at all when I was reblogging these posts so there’s a very small chance my casual Tumblr followers would make the connection). If anything, most people would’ve just looked at my posts as a PSA sort of thing and not some sort of vicious attack on an ex-partner.

I told them that this wasn’t the first time they’ve announced to cut themselves out of my life before, and that when people usually want to leave they just do it without a warning. I added that I had a feeling they made these “leaving announcements” because they’re actually thinly-veiled attempts to get me to convince them into staying. After that, they promptly sent a “Fuck off, dude” text before blocking my number. Instead of panicking, which was what I did the last time they said they were leaving my life forever, I actually felt a sense of relief — as if a part of me was saying, “Finally. It’s over.”

If I went to my past self from a year and a half ago and told myself that the person who told me to fuck off was the same person they were currently in a happy relationship with, I’m pretty sure my past self would laugh at my face and tell me that I’ve got the wrong person.

This person was my first (And quite possibly only; honestly after this hot mess I think I’m turned off relationships for good this time) romantic relationship. Before they came along I had absolutely no interest in pursuing anybody romantically. It never appealed to me, and sometimes it actually repulsed me. I remember looking at my friends in high school as they dabbled in relationships and thinking about how complicated and unnecessarily stressful it looked. It honestly seemed like a waste of time. The thought of devoting a large chunk of your life to someone else, feeling obligated to spend time with this person and cater to their needs…it just didn’t look like my cup of tea. I preferred the independence and freedom of being single. Loneliness was something I’ve grappled with every once in awhile but it was never bad enough to the point where I thought that a relationship or the company of a romantic partner would fix it.

We met online through a group of mutual friends. I never connected with someone as quickly as I have connected with them — and, to this day, they’re still the only person I’ve had such a connection with. We had a lot in common, we shared the same opinions on a lot of things, and our compatibility was just so seamless that at times I caught myself thinking why I didn’t reach out to them sooner. It was one of those things where we knew that the other person existed but we didn’t know how to initiate conversation. They ended up reaching out first through the Internet and eventually we started texting each other. We talked every single day, from the moment we woke up to the time one of us had to go to bed. We never ran out of things to talk about. They laughed at my stupid jokes and I listened whenever they needed to vent their frustrations about their life. Our relationship escalated very quickly within the span of a few weeks; it wasn’t long until they told me that they saw me as my best friend. I didn’t know it at the time (I’m emotionally constipated, sue me), but they were one of my best friends too.

They were dating someone else at the time, but the relationship was reaching the end of its ropes and it was easy to see that things were quickly unraveling between the two of them. They came to me more and more often to tell me something about their partner that aggravated them, and I honestly should have taken that as a warning sign. At first, the complaints were about normal things — a disagreement or an argument about something silly, you know…typical relationship hiccups. But then, as the weeks went by, the complaints got more and more trivial. They came to me one day and told me that they got into another argument because their partner called them and wanted to talk about football (They were at a bar watching a game with their friends). They were annoyed because their partner knew they didn’t care about football, and that’s what they argued about. I know that when it comes to relationships you don’t necessarily have to have everything in common, but you should at least respect their interests. They practically blew their partner off (Though I didn’t say that to their face), and they made their partner look like it was their fault. I didn’t know this was problematic at the time, so I took this person’s side and agreed that it wasn’t right for their partner to do what they did. I guess I was so enamoured by this person at this point that I didn’t realize that what they were doing was a bad sign. Their partner was just excited about something they were interested in and wanted to confide in them. There was nothing wrong with that.

Anyways, they broke up with their partner not long after (They weren’t as upset over it as I thought they were going to be, which was another warning sign that flew under my radar), and we grew even closer. It wasn’t long until our interactions changed: We were calling each other cute and we were making really bad attempts at flirting. I’ve never wanted to call someone cute before. I was experiencing an onslaught of completely new emotions and I was overwhelmed. All of a sudden all I wanted to do was talk to this person and be around them. I’d wake up every morning hoping I’d find a text from them waiting for me on my phone, and when I did find a text my heart skipped with excitement. I thought about how it would feel to hold their hand, or touch their hair while they were sleeping — y’know, stupid fluffy crush shit. I was 22 at the time. 22 years old, and I was crushing like a 13 year old schoolgirl. Embarrassing.

It became clear, after nearly a month of playing flirty cat and mouse with each other, that they weren’t going to initiate the topic of bringing our relationship to “the next level”…so I jumped ship and decided to do it. I did it while I was out at the mall with my best friend, of all places, getting Taco Bell. I basically texted them and said that I noticed they’ve been sort of flirting with me lately, and I wondered if there was any context behind it. They admitted to it…and that’s when our relationship started. This was probably just a little over a month after the end of their last relationship (Yet another warning sign I unintentionally ignored).

Things were great. We liked each other a lot and our chemistry was so organic that it felt like things were supposed to be this way. Our friends rejoiced when we told them we were in a relationship (They had been hoping we’d get together for some time), and they had our full support. We weren’t just partners but we were best friends; we confided in each other about everything. We didn’t leave any stone unturned (Or at least that’s what we thought at the time; the honeymoon phase was in full force) and we told each other all of our secrets, stuff that we never told anyone else before. We knew each other inside and out. We predicted each other’s actions because we just knew our personalities so well. We complained about our families and work. We gushed over our favourite video games together. I introduced them to some of my favourite movies, and they showed me some of theirs. We sent each other care packages: candy, little gifts, mix CDs with songs that reminded us of each other, etcetera. I met their siblings and parents (The power of Skype and Facebook), and they liked me and I liked them. Even though it was a long distance relationship (We are from different countries), it always felt like we were right next to each other because we were always talking to each other. We had daily Skype conversations. We never were out of each other’s reach.

Our first big fight happened about a few months into our relationship, when they got a new job. They didn’t have a lot of friends to hang out with in their area, so whenever they meet someone new they had a habit of clinging onto them and forgetting everyone else. They made new friends at work and at first I was really happy for them, because I knew they were lonely and they really wanted people to spend time with — because when they weren’t at work or hanging out with their family they spent most of their free time alone in their room with Netflix or video games. It started out with just, “Hey, I’m going to hang out with my friends tonight.” Fine, nothing wrong with that. Everyone needs a little space away from their partners, and everyone needs to have their own set of friends away from their relationship.

But then they stopped telling me when they went out with these friends. We’d be texting each other like we regularly would, and then they would suddenly stop responding. Sometimes it would be hours before they would get back to me. “Sorry, I’m out with my friends right now.” “Sorry, I left my phone in my car.” “Sorry, I noticed everyone else wasn’t looking at their phones and I didn’t want to be rude so I tucked my phone away.”

This was my first relationship and my first time being emotionally attached to someone. This was where I made my first relationship-related mistake. I grew too reliant on my partner for affection and attention. I was spoiled by our daily texting conversations and Skype sessions. When they disappeared and wouldn’t reply, I’d panic and slay their phone with wave after wave of texts. “Hey, where are you?” “I’m worried, please answer me soon.” “Hey.” “Hey?” “Hey…” “Hey” “Hello?” “Can you at least tell me where you are?” I’d spam their phone so much that sometimes they’d text me just to tell me to stop because I was freezing their phone. I’d apologize and stop for a few hours, only to start spamming again. I never learned. I was so afraid of not having them around that I acted impulsively with these spamming spells. In hindsight, it probably only made them want to ignore their phone — and me — even more. It did the exact opposite of what I wanted, which was to have them pay attention to me.

We finally tried doing the grownup thing and started to talk it out. I told them I was upset with their disappearing habits and it made me feel like they didn’t want to be around me. They apologized and said they would try to be more mindful, and that they would tell me when they would be unavailable to text. Even though I didn’t like these friends (They were your typical white dudebros who didn’t do anything with their lives except party and get fucked up), I tried my best to be tolerant of them because I knew these people were their only friends and they desperately wanted the company (Since I wasn’t physically there to be around them all the time). It didn’t really work; it got to the point where sometimes just the mere mention of their names caused me to bristle. That was another mistake that I made. I should’ve been more accepting and respectful.

They started spending more and more time with them, and they were leaving little time for me. Sometimes they’d give me hope by promising they would hang out with me one day, only for them to forget about the plans we made and so they ended up hanging out with their friends instead. They only started talking or hanging out with me when their friends weren’t available, like I was some backup option — and since they weren’t giving me the attention I wanted, I got more clingy and annoying. It was a vicious cycle that neither of us were attempting to stop. Whenever my friends wanted to hang out with me and my partner’s friends couldn’t hang out with them on the same day, they guilted me into saying no to my friends so I can spend time with them instead. It happened the other way around too: I guilted them into saying no to their friends sometimes because I wanted their attention. It wasn’t healthy for the both of us, but neither of us knew at the time.

We went to our mutual friends for help. We told them the situation in separate one-on-one conversations and offered their advice. We went to our separate friends for help too. At one point it really felt like things just weren’t going to get better, and there was even a point when my clinginess got so bad that they told me if I spammed them one more time or something like that they would have no choice but to leave.

The only reason why things got better between us was because one of their friends ended up being one of those people who befriended others just because they wanted to get in their pants — and when my ex told them that they only saw them as a friend, they started getting all passive-aggressive and complaining on social media about getting “friendzoned” (Yeah, that kind of person). That opened their eyes to the true nature of these friends and they distanced themselves from some of them. They only stayed in contact with a couple of them, but as time went on one of those two friends ended up confessing that they had “feelings” for them too and that deterred my then-partner from continuing a relationship with them.

So things went back to normal. After the whole mishap, they came to visit me for the first time. It was magical. We finally got to see each other in person. We could see and hear each other in the flesh. I showed them around the city and we grew closer as partners and as friends. In the three years that we dated they came to visit me at least two or three times a year: a couple times during the summer, once during our first year anniversary, and they came in the winter for New Years. They came to know my family and my friends, and everything seemed perfect again. Things were smooth. We had disagreements every now and then, just like any couple, but we were resolving them properly. It was great.

But, little did I know at the time, I was making another mistake. They always made the time to visit me, and they made the effort to save money for these trips, but I always made excuses not to visit them. Why?

The first reason is a bit of a flimsy one. The job I had at the time only gave me 5–10 hours a week, on minimum wage, and it was barely enough to cover for gas money and other necessities. It made it really hard to save for things. Saving for a trip to visit my partner wasn’t impossible, though, and I know I could’ve done it to at least afford one trip a year, but I didn’t. I was an idiot. I kept making excuses, telling my partner that I had to pay bills and stuff — which was partially true, but I know that they knew I was making part of this up. When our relationship ended they told me that my constant excuses of not visiting made their family feel like I didn’t want to bother with them, which was completely untrue. I loved their family, but I was really shitty with showing my affections towards people I cared about. I still sort of am…but I’m slowly working on it.

So why did I keep making excuses not to visit? Insecurity, honestly. Arguably, this reason is a little flimsy too — maybe even a little pathetic. My ex is from a small town in the United States and so a lot of the people living in their area are conservative-minded. I’ve travelled to the States millions of times before — my family and I visit the States at least once or twice a year — and almost every time we go, I get treated differently by the locals. Sometimes it’s because of my skin colour, and sometimes it’s because I’m a girl with androgynous features and the fact that I don’t wear “feminine” clothes. I get a lot of stares, and I can see people pointing at me from the corner of my eye. I even heard some teenagers making fun of the way I looked one time when I was at a mall in Florida. The worst was using public restrooms: I got the worst kind of looks every time I walked into one.

Years of putting up with this formed an innate fear in me, and even a kind of prejudice, towards Americans — specifically those in small towns, because most of the weird treatment I got was when we would be driving through small towns and we would stop at a gas station or a mall to fill up on snacks or whatnot. This fear held me back from saving the money to visit my ex, and since I never told them why I kept making excuses not to see them, they began to form their own assumptions — and I can’t blame them for that. It made them feel like I didn’t want to bother with learning about their lives and where they grew up. It made them feel like I didn’t want to bother meeting their friends and family , even though I knew the people my ex associated themselves with weren’t the ignorant bigots I was so afraid of. I didn’t tell them any of these concerns until months after we broke up, and they exasperatingly told me that I should’ve told them sooner so they could quell those fears for me. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if I was more upfront and honest with them right away. Who knows?

Anyways, stuff like that bubbled under the surface, but on the outside everything was perfect. The last two years of our relationship are easily one of the best years of my life. We went to Disney World for their birthday and had a fancy dinner at the Beast’s castle. We celebrated Canada Day by watching a free LIGHTS concert. We went to Niagara Falls and tried our luck in the casino. We attended the Toronto Pride Parade two years in a row. We ate at a lot of cool restaurants (I’m pretty sure the both of us gained a little bit of weight every time they came to visit me). We went on so many adventures and opened each other’s eyes to so many new experiences. We made plans for our future together: We daydreamed about our little apartment in the city and the animals we would adopt. We wanted a Star Wars-themed kitchen and an l-shaped couch in the living room so we could lounge comfortably with our feet up as we played video games all night long. It felt like the sky was the limit. We had the whole world at our feet.

Being in love with one of your best friends is probably one of the greatest things on Earth. Everything is so exciting and it feels like you can conquer the entire universe as long as they’re by your side. You feel completely vulnerable around them, but in a good way because you feel like you can expose the most sensitive parts of yourself to them and they’ll handle you with the greatest love and care, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to them. It’s like that feeling you get when you pull apart the curtains first thing in the morning and the sun hits your face and everything is suddenly bright and warm: there’s a light that ignites inside of you, and it burns with such ferocity that it almost feels like it’ll never burn out.

They were one of my best friends, and even now, after all the things we did to each other, I still care deeply for them and hope that time will heal our wounds and we’ll somehow find our way back to each other. Despite the messy end to our relationship, I really do believe that the bond I have with this person is special and unique, and it doesn’t really feel like the end — the true end — has come quite yet.

But things have ended for now, and I’m about to explain why.

2015 was the year everything went to shit. In the spring I started going through a massive, very severe depressive episode. I had been off my bipolar meds for almost 4 years now and I think this was an early sign of a relapse. Things had been so great that I guess I wasn’t really taking care of my mental health at the time (Because I was so reliant on how well things were going with my partner that I relied on them for happiness, security, and validation…which was yet another mistake I made), and things started to slip. My partner did everything they could to help me, but as time went on it just wasn’t enough. They listened to me whenever I needed to talk, but I’d start doing this “push and pull” with them that exhausted them emotionally and only motivated them to want to stay away. I’d ask them for attention, but when they would give it to me I’d tell them I’d want to be alone soon afterward. I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted them there, but I didn’t at the same time.

Around this time, my soon-to-be ex started hanging out with an old high school friend. They lost touch for awhile, but just recently fell back into step with each other and they were getting along really well. The whole debacle from a couple years ago with the previous group of friends was happening all over again, except this time it was much worse. My depressive episode made my clinginess even more unbearable this time around, and it only pushed my then-partner farther and farther away from me and closer and closer towards their friend. The disappearances and the “Hey, sorry, but I’m out right now and I don’t want to look rude with looking at my phone all the time” texts came back.

They hung out with a group of friends sometimes, but a lot of times it was just them and their old friend. It made me jealous and suspicious. On the rare moments I was emotionally stable and we were able to hold a civil conversation without me breaking out into a violent depressive episode, they would constantly bring them up. There wasn’t anything I could’ve said that didn’t remind my ex of this “friend”. Out of frustration I’ve told them many times that I thought they were falling in love with them, and my ex would vehemently disagree and say that they just “got along really well”. They didn’t have much in common, but they had chemistry — a chemistry I couldn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. Looking back, I think this friend gave my ex comfort and stability — two things I used to provide for them, but now I no longer do because of the way I was acting.

My jealousy got worse. I wasn’t hiding my anger towards my then-partner’s budding relationship with this “friend” anymore. I outwardly talked about how it annoyed me, and how much I didn’t like this person even though I knew very little about them. It caused us to fight a lot more, and it only motivated them to gravitate towards the one person I didn’t want them gravitating towards.

They grew less and less tolerant of my episodes. Instead of trying to talk me through my mood swings, they suddenly started replying with a flat, “I don’t know what to say to you anymore.” Sometimes, they’d just ignore me, and I’d spam their phone to get their attention, only for them to be even more annoyed with me. My behaviour was starting get really unstable at this point and it brought back old habits: the spamming, the guilt-tripping, the pushing and pulling. I got back into even older habits that I thought I had conquered years ago: self-harm and suicide. My fear of losing them overcame me and it ended up doing the exact opposite of what I wanted. My suicidal tendencies were scaring them and they felt obligated to stick around with me out of fear I was going to seriously hurt myself, and I didn’t know it at the time but it caused serious damage to our rapidly deteriorating relationship.

The last happy, stable memory I have of us physically together was towards the end of the summer of 2015. Ironically, it was the first time I actually came to visit them. There was a family reunion happening in the city close to where my then-partner lived, and my parents were planning on going so I decided to tag along with them. We were only there for the weekend, but my then-partner stayed in the hotel with us and even came to the reunion. We never argued. We enjoyed each other’s company. I never had a mood swing. They never brought up their “friend”. We spent the last night cuddling in our hotel bed watching BoJack Horseman on Netflix. I remember turning off the laptop and rolling to the side, and I felt them scoot up as close as they possibly could behind me. I felt their arm drape around my waist and their face burying into the back of my neck. Their breath was warm against my skin and their hair was tickling my cheek. I fell asleep almost instantly. I had never felt so loved, so safe in my entire life.

We dropped them off at their house on Sunday morning before we drove back home. I remember watching them walk back towards their house. I didn’t kiss them goodbye because my parents were there and it would’ve been weird for the both of us if we kissed in front of them — but I regret not doing it now. If I knew that was the last time I would see them again, I probably would’ve gotten out of the car and did way more than just wave and say goodbye.

Things quickly fell apart after that. Soon after I got home, the arguments started all over again. The mood swings and the silent treatments and the misinterpretations and the disagreements — everything came back full swing. Things eventually came to an end on the first week of September.

It started on Friday night. I don’t remember how it started, but we were arguing…again— and I really lost my cool this time. They were out with this friend again and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I hated that they kept picking their so-called friend over me all the time. I hated that they weren’t paying enough attention to me, even though I kept pushing them away every time they did give me attention. I hated that they would disappear overnight without telling me where they went. I hated that I felt like a backup again, a substitute for when their first choice wasn’t available. I laid all of this out on them in huge paragraphs, and I’m pretty sure it got so intense that I started texting in all-caps (Because apparently my word choice wasn’t harsh enough).

They were dumb-stricken. I had pummelled them with insult after insult to the point where they just had absolutely no idea how to reply. They told me that they just “really didn’t like themselves right now”, and that they were going to go home and sleep early to get the day over with. I was still angry so I just decided to leave them be.

On Saturday, I went to Fan Expo — Canada’s largest nerd convention. I texted them in the morning, because my anger had subsided and I was feeling up to talking again. Again, I don’t really remember how it happened, but we ended up arguing again. I got angry, again, and started accusing them of things, again…and I remember them saying something about not liking themselves again before disappearing completely. At first, my texts were sending through, but then they weren’t anymore. So I started calling them, but there wasn’t a dial tone and it would go straight to voicemail. Worried, I turned to Facebook and messaged one of their siblings to ask if they were okay.

To my surprise, their sibling told me that my soon-to-be ex-partner actually didn’t come home at all last night. They stopped at home briefly to shower, and they disappeared. Now everyone was worried. Their family tried contacting them but they were just as unsuccessful as me. I even contacted their best friend — one of the few friends they had left, because they had stopped talking with their friends and started dedicated most of their time to this one “friend” — and they joined us in our search. The day was crawling at this point because I was panicking with worry, but I tried to distract myself with the excitement of Fan Expo. I got my copy of the first Uncharted game signed by Nolan North — the voice behind Nathan Drake — for my ex. Even got their name on it and everything. I thought it would be a nice “I’m sorry for being a jealous asshole” or a potential anniversary present, since our fourth year would have been coming up in October.

Later on in the day, their parents managed to get a hold of them. Their sibling told me that they sounded drunk, but it was a brief conversation and it didn’t last any longer than a few seconds. Other than that, my ex made no attempts to contact anyone until the day after. It turns out that they had spent the entire weekend with their “friend” and their group of friends — probably to get away from my ferocious clinginess and frustration. I was angry about being lied to, and they were angry about me spamming their phone with texts and calls all weekend, so another argument broke out. That’s when they texted:

“I don’t think I should be in a relationship right now.”

That hit me like a bag of bricks to the face. I was lying in bed when I got that message, and it couldn’t have been any later than ten in the morning. Panicking, I did the first thing that came to mind, which was to call them. We were both sobbing: I was begging them to reconsider, and they were trying to tell me that this was what they needed right now. I should’ve known this was coming, but I guess I just refused to see it because I didn’t want it to happen. I refused to acknowledge that breaking up was even a possibility with us, so when it did happen I just didn’t know what to do.

We eventually agreed to “start over” — not as partners but as friends for now, and we would wait and see where we were in a month’s time and re-evaluate from there. It gave me hope that things would improve between us, and sometimes it did. Even though we broke up, we still treated each other like lovers. We still called each other pet names, we still said “I love you”, and we still flirted — but the illusion never lasted long. They would mention going out with their “friend” again and I’d get triggered and I’d fall back into being horribly depressed, and it would either result in another argument or them just plain leaving me alone.

School had started, and I was having a lot of trouble concentrating. Though I still managed to perform well in school and I appeared okay to my classmates, I was a complete wreck on the inside. I couldn’t really think about anything else except of ways to patch things up with my ex. It was the only thing I really wanted at this point, and it was beginning to affect other parts of my life.

This was also when they started to change as well.

Now that they weren’t officially in a relationship, my ex was growing incredibly close to their “friend”. They spent weekends away together with their friends. They took each other as dates to parties. As this was happening, I would continuously accuse my ex of being in love with this “friend” and not admitting to it, and the response would always be the same: “I don’t love them, I love you.” Yet, we were still broken up, and they were still choosing them over me, and we were still arguing at least once every other day.

I wasn’t making the best decisions at this point. I would’ve done anything to please my ex, because I wanted them back so bad. I ended up slipping that I had talked to their siblings and their best friend about how I didn’t like their budding relationship with this “friend”, and they exploded. This was the first time I saw them really, really, really angry. This was also the first time they threatened to cut themselves out of my life. They really didn’t like knowing that people talked about them behind their back, even if it wasn’t done in a malicious way (Because we all talk about people to other people). I apologized profusely and begged and begged to get them to forgive me, and I eventually got them to calm down, though they strictly stated that they did not forgive me and won’t forget what I did. They made me promise to never talk about them to their family again without them knowing, and I agreed…even though I’d end up breaking that promise a few more times later on (But it was never done intentionally; again, it was out of impulse due to the fear of losing them).

Their siblings didn’t like that I blabbed about our conversations, and so they severed their relationship with me. I tried to apologize on multiple occasions, but they wouldn’t have it. I continuously tried reaching out to them because I was noticing that my ex’s behaviour was getting more and more hostile, but their siblings were tired of me talking “negatively” about their family member and eventually all of them ended up blocking me on Facebook.

I think I have a habit of acting impulsively every time someone leaves my life, because once they blocked me I tried looking for other ways to contact them. I tried Twitter and Instagram, and they eventually blocked me there too. Every time I contacted them I accidentally slipped to my ex that I tried, and every time I slipped they blew up on me and threatened to leave — and then I would beg and beg and plead for their forgiveness. It was the beginning of an even worse cycle.

It was getting harder and harder to talk to my ex. We agreed to be friends but it was so difficult because we felt like we were constantly walking on eggshells with each other. The smallest thing would cause one of us to break and we’d end up arguing. I think this happened because we didn’t give each other the space we needed to readjust to our new “relationship status”. Once we broke up we kept in contact, and I think our constant presence just made things worse.

My depressive episode was at an all-time low at this point. It had gotten so bad that I was skipping meals. My sleep schedule was erratic. My heart rate was unnaturally high and it always felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I was drinking heavily; it started with a couple beers every day, to almost four to five beers…and when I didn’t have beer, I’d binge on whisky. I would have periods where I’d “black out”: I would suddenly “wake up” somewhere with no memory of how I got there in the first place. I’d be sitting in a classroom in the middle of lecture with my car keys in my hand, but I would have no memory of waking up, getting dressed, and driving to school.

At this point, I found out that the “best” way to get my ex’s attention was when I was suicidal — because when I felt like killing myself, it scared them into staying with me in case I actually did try. So for about 3 months, I would find ways to get myself triggered so an episode would start…and it would scare my ex into paying attention to me. I’m not proud to admit this at all. It actually makes me really uncomfortable to type this out…but this is a part of the story that can’t be ignored, because I’m at fault just as much as my ex is. Intentionally triggering myself in an attempt to get the slightest bit of attention is probably my greatest failure. I’m ashamed of it. I hate that I did it. I still do. I caused a lot of stress not on just my ex-partner but my friends and my family too. It also wore down on my already shitty mental and physical health. I did a lot of horrible, terrible things to get my ex’s attention and this was one of the worst ones. There were more, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about it right now. Maybe at a later time.

Anyways, this only made my ex-partner even more afraid to be around me, and it got to a point where they didn’t want to be around me at all. This only prompted them to grow closer to their “friend”. They didn’t take my breakdowns seriously at all anymore — they even told me once that they treated them as “false alarms”, because they knew I didn’t have the gall to actually go through with it and actually kill myself. I didn’t know it back then, but that was a red flag too. Even though some of these attempts were intentional in an attempt to get their attention, any suicide attempt or any mention of committing suicide should never be treated as a false alarm. I guess it was partially my fault because I had threatened it so many times that they were probably desensitized to it by now, but still.

At some point in November I realized that I really needed help — so I went back to therapy. I went to a doctor and I started talking about my relationship problems. I talked about the blackouts and my shitty eating and sleeping schedules. I was eventually put back on medication. I hated that I had to start taking pills again, but at that point I realized that maybe I should’ve never stopped taking them in the first place. Some people with bipolar disorder have to take medication for the rest of their lives, and I think it was then that I finally understood that I was one of those people…and I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. Taking medication for my mental illness wasn’t any different than someone taking medication for high blood pressure or diabetes. It took awhile for me to come to that realization, and I’m glad I did. It was a slow start — it took awhile for my body to get used to the drugs, and I was still wildly unstable and suicidal, but I eventually started to see small bouts of improvement.

I thought it was a good idea to tell my ex that I was getting help, and that talking about our relationship problems to a doctor was really helping me. When we were still together, my ex was fully supportive of the ways I dealt with my mental illness, and so I thought telling them about going back for treatment wouldn’t hurt.

Well, I was wrong.

They exploded on me, just like how they exploded when I told them I was talking to their siblings and best friend. They threatened to cut me out of their life for the umpteenth time, and I begged for forgiveness for the umpteenth time. They eventually relented, like usual, and calmed down…but this time, they told me that I was allowed to continue seeing a doctor as long as I didn’t talk about our relationship.

That raised a lot of red flags. The way they worded it sounded like a command, like they were ordering me not to talk about our relationship to my doctor. I knew they didn’t have control over my life like that, and I think I mentioned that it wasn’t fair that they expected something like that. I’m pretty sure we got into another argument about it, but we didn’t come to any conclusions and just left it. It would be a month or two until they apologized and told me that telling me what I was and wasn’t allowed to tell my doctor wasn’t their call.

Our relationship flopped back and forth between really good and really bad. One day we would be be fine and talking and joking around like always, and the next day I’ll say something that’ll set them off and they would violently flare up and threaten to leave, and it would scare me into begging for forgiveness, and they’d eventually calm down and things would go back to normal again. One day I’d be their best friend, and the next day I’d be their worst nightmare. There was never an in-between: They either loved me or detested me. It was a toxic cycle that continued well into 2016.

My ex’s behaviour got more and more volatile, and their paranoia over being talked about was causing them to make outlandish assumptions about me and what I was doing. It came to a point where almost anything I said to them would trigger an explosive reaction, and they would dig up old mistakes from the past — from months or even years ago, stuff that they told me they had forgiven me for — just to throw it in my face. They grasped at anything for ammunition, which was ironic because every time I tried to bring up an old mistake they made from the past they would just blow up on me and tell me to never mention it again because “It happened a long time ago”. They had a habit of doing things to me that they didn’t like me doing to them, and every time I brought up that they were being hypocritical they’d only respond with “Well you’re a hypocrite too”, and I didn’t have anything to say at that point because they weren’t exactly lying. My turn to be toxic and emotionally manipulative was over, and it was their turn now.

Suddenly, everything was my fault. It was my fault they prioritized their relationship with this “friend” over their other relationships. It was my fault they felt like they didn’t have any friends of their own. It was my fault they felt lonely and isolated whenever their “friend” wasn’t around to spend time with them. It was my fault they were unhappy. Every once in a blue moon, they would admit that sometimes they made mistakes, but it was always because I did something that provoked something to make that mistake. “Yes, I did this, but it’s only because you did this first.” Nothing was entirely their fault. It was always mine.

My ex stopped respecting me, and they never wanted to hear me out. They treated my opinions like they didn’t matter. Whenever we tried having a normal conversation and I’d try to raise a point, my ex would brush me off and tell me that they never asked for my opinion. I don’t know about you, but a conversation usually comprises of people exchanging opinions. The only opinion they wanted to hear was theirs. When they complained about something and I tried to tell them that I could relate, or I tried comforting them by showing that I understood how they felt, they’d bristle and tell me to “stop telling them what they were thinking”. When I would say that I wasn’t doing anything of the sort and that I was only trying to help, they’d respond with something scathing like “You always make me feel worse” or “You don’t really help much anymore”.

Every time I did something to upset them, they would either threaten to cut themselves out of my life or give me the silent treatment. At first it was just ignoring my attempts to contact them, but it eventually escalated into blocking my number for a day or two, and they would only reply to me when they felt like it. At this point, they had complete control over me — and I was duped into believing that they were allowed to do this because they kept bringing up the “I intentionally triggered my suicidal tendencies in order to get their attention” thing and it made me feel really guilty. I allowed them to blame me for all of their problems because they made me feel like it was only fair, since I was such a terrible person.

During one argument, they brought up all of the doubts they had about our relationship that I never knew they had until that moment. I had a feeling they were saving this for a rainy day; their “trump card” to hurt my feelings, and to make me feel like I had made yet another mistake. They told me that I wasn’t as outwardly affectionate as they wanted me to be, that I made them feel ashamed because I didn’t talk about our relationship as much to my friends as they did with theirs. They told me about how their family felt when I kept making excuses not to visit them. They told me how unimportant I made them feel. I had no idea they felt this way, and hearing all of it at once was overwhelming. Why didn’t we talk this out sooner? Why didn’t we address these concerns when we were still together? Why did we hold back on telling each other the truth about how we really felt?

At first, I relented and believed them. I’m not an outwardly affectionate person by nature, so I really did think that I was the sole reason for our relationship falling apart. I truly thought that it was my fault everything was so shitty. Was there something I could’ve done? Should I have approached the situation differently? If I didn’t do this one thing, would we still be together? Why can’t I do anything right? Why do I ruin everything I touch?

During another argument, they hit where it hurt most and brought up the fact that the reason why they chose their “friend” over me all the time was because they knew for certain that this friend would never lie to them or talk about them behind their back. They knew I couldn’t stand hearing about this person, so I’m sure they mentioned them on purpose because they knew it would cut deep. When I mentioned that I don’t believe that this person has never truly talked about them behind their back and that they never lied to them before (Because let’s be honest: We all lie and talk about each other to other people — you have to be incredibly naive to think that there isn’t someone out there who doesn’t do those things), and of course they exploded on me and told me that I was “demonizing” their friend because I was jealous. They told me that I didn’t trust people enough, which was true, but I really felt like I had a reason not to trust them.

I’m sure you know this by now, but this “friend” ended up being a lot more than just a friend. After months of vehemently refusing to acknowledge their growing feelings for this person, my ex-partner finally admitted that they felt something romantic towards them. They hid this from me because, despite our constant arguments, they still had feelings for me and they didn’t want to hurt my feelings — but now that the truth was out in the open, their behaviour began to change even more radically. There was a point where they went out every weekend, doing who knows what. They would disappear for hours, sometimes days at a time. Eventually, their relationship became another piece of ammunition my ex-partner would use against me in an argument. There were times where they told me that they were happy in their relationship, and that they would never ever date me again.

Even though my ex-partner vehemently denies it, I count this as cheating. They didn’t do anything physically while we were together, and it’s true that my actions were part of the reason why my ex-partner didn’t want to be with me anymore and preferred the other person’s company, but “emotional cheating” exists and I only found out that it existed shortly after they broke up with me. They broke up with me, yes, but they continued to “date” me for a few months after they said they didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore. They still treated me like a romantic partner when things were actually stable between us. Even though they still won’t acknowledge it as cheating, they have admitted to me that it was wrong of them to lead me on like that, and they should’ve officially broken it off sooner — but they were so afraid of the possibility of me killing myself that they decided against it.

Another thing to note was that they got extremely jealous whenever I mentioned I was making new friends – whether at school or at an event I attended, just about any social situation basically. Every time I mentioned I met someone new, they’d make a comment about how they couldn’t take it anymore, that they felt like they no longer “fit in my life”, and then they’d finish off with their usual threat to leave. They absolutely couldn’t stand the thought of me making new friends, and it was the most baffling thing, especially when they had a completely new group of “friends” (Again, they were really just their new partner’s friends and they just tagged along) and they expected me to tolerate it. I didn’t have to like it, but they wanted me to be tolerant of it…so why couldn’t they do the same for me?

Just before they started their relationship, I had gathered the courage to talk to our mutual friends about what was happening. During these tumultuous months I was in and out of social media, sporadically posting on Tumblr and popping in and out of Facebook. I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about what was going on, especially after the whole doctor incident. If my ex-partner couldn’t handle me talking to a health professional about our relationship problems — which was causing dangerous amounts of physical and mental stress on me at this point — I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they found out I talked to our friends.

I couldn’t even vent about my frustrations or concerns on my blog or any other social media channel. If I posted or reblogged anything that made them feel like I was passive-aggressively talking about the mistreatment they’ve been giving me, they would text me and harass me about it with the usual: They’d tell me this “isn’t working out” and threaten to leave. Some of the things I posted/reblogged/retweeted/whatever weren’t even about them, yet they accused me of talking about them anyway. Everything I did, apparently, was some sort of personal attack on them. I had no outlet at all. To be fair, the both of us were guilty with this: We both had “vent blogs” where we would passive-aggressively complain about each other on, and we would do it intentionally post on these blogs because we knew the other person would see them. Whenever that happened, you can bet there was a nasty argument waiting to happen.

Their anger got worse and worse. It was dangerously easy to trigger an explosion, and the things they said out of that anger got more and more hurtful. There were a few times where they told me I ruined their life, and that I was making everything worse. There was one time where they told me to “get harassed” by another friend in my life I was having relationship troubles with at the time. They would eventually apologize for these things, but it’s something I can’t really forget either. They had a tendency to get cruel when they were angry (It’s a defence mechanism for most people; it doesn’t justify the things they say but it provides an explanation, at least), but they were never this cruel before. It went from 0–11 really quickly. There was never a “cool down” or “buildup” period. My ex-partner would get triggered by something I said, and they would fire at all cylinders.

There were some moments where, during an argument, whenever I tried to bring up a point to stick up for myself, my ex would violently deny or even outright refuse to acknowledge my point. For example, if my ex accused me of treating them a certain way, and I would bring up that they treated me the exact same way sometime before, they would deny that they treated me like that in the first place. Even if I would send them a screenshot or some proof that they did indeed do that same exact thing to me, they would find a way to play it down, like the way they did it wasn’t as harmful or painful as the way I did it. They would say things like, “That’s not what I meant when I said that”, or, “You misinterpreted me. You’re reading too much into what I said”. I later learned that this is a tactic called “gaslighting”, and it’s supposed to make your victim doubt themselves. I’m sure my ex never did it intentionally, but it did mess with my self-esteem for a very long time, and it definitely didn’t help with my mental health troubles either.

I was deathly afraid of talking to someone about it, but I knew that I had no other choice at this point, and I was feeling more confident about myself. I knew that if I had kept to this myself any longer, I would end up exploding and probably killing myself for real. I had to tell someone. I needed help, and it wasn’t fair that I felt like I had to put up a front to our friends for my ex-partner’s sake. My health was at stake. I couldn’t let them control me anymore.

Despite the horrible treatment, I was also incredibly worried about my ex, and it was another reason why I decided to talk to our mutual friends. They were growing more and more isolated from everyone — it had gotten to the point where the only people they spent time with were their new partner and their friends, and occasionally their family — their personality had completely changed in a suspiciously short amount of time, and I thought that maybe if I raised some concerns with our friends, we could team up together and help. After telling them about the past shitty few months, I was surprised to learn that they were worried too. My ex only sporadically spoke to them a few times since we had broken up, and it was gradually winding down to no contact at all. They knew that there was something wrong, since they noticed my inactivity online lately, and they were glad that I finally decided to tell them. I told them how I felt like it was my fault things turned out this way, and that I felt like I couldn’t do anything right. They reassured that the relationship problems they had with my ex had very little to do with me, despite what my ex was trying to make me feel, and that I did the right thing by coming to them.

My ex obviously didn’t think it was the right thing. They knew I still kept in contact with our mutual friends, and they would continuously throw it in my face during arguments. They accused me of turning our mutual friends against them, that I demonized them and made them look like a horrible person, and that my actions were the reason why they didn’t have a relationship with our friends anymore. Even though I repeatedly tried to convince them that I didn’t slander them in any way and simply asked them for help because I didn’t know who else to turn to, my ex-partner would continuously blame me and guilt me for what I did. They told me that it’s wrong to confide in mutual friends about a breakup because it would cause people to take sides (Even though we both confided in these same mutual friends before during the first incident with the friends at their new job). I told them over and over again that they weren’t taking a side, and that they worried about them and wanted to talk to them, but nothing worked. My ex would simply rebuff my comments, tell me that “it wasn’t worth it”, and would leave it at that. I said that it isn’t fair to just assume they don’t want to talk to them anymore, but they still wouldn’t listen.

As time went on, I noticed that my ex would behave this way every time I pointed out they did something wrong. They’d blow me off, tell me it’s not worth it, then order me to drop the subject. It gave me the impression that they knew they were wrong, and that they just didn’t want to admit it. It’s almost like they refused to acknowledge the truth. It was strange, because they were never like this before. A year ago, they would have apologized and talked things out. Now, suddenly, everyone was wrong except for them. They would jump through hoops to make themselves look like the victim.

It was like I was talking to a complete stranger. I brought it up to them one time and they simply replied that change was natural, and I was just upset because they were “changing without me”. That didn’t sit right with me, but not because they were changing without me, like they assumed. It was more because a change this radical doesn’t usually happen so quickly (It almost felt like it happened overnight), and most “natural changes” usually had benefits to them. This wasn’t a change for the better, at least not on my end, or any of our mutual friends’ — and when I was still on speaking terms with their siblings, they thought it was strange too (But they probably don’t think that way now, since they hate me and my ex probably talked to them about their side of the story so they’re most likely on their side now). This was a change that hurt a lot of people, though I don’t think my ex realizes it. I still think they don’t.

I continued my therapy and medication, and things got better. I confided in non-mutual friends about the situation and explained why I was being so antisocial lately. My friends, both online and offline, were a huge factor in my recovery: They supported me through and through. They listened whenever I needed to talk to them, and they told me what I needed to hear. I also found the courage to talk to my mom about it, and she was also incredibly supportive. I wasn’t alone anymore, and it felt wonderful. I had that “drawing the curtains first thing in the morning” feeling all over again.

I was going out with my friends and spending time with my family again. I refocused on school and I ended up finishing the year with a 3.8 GPA. I got to briefly work on a summer project with my favourite professor (And I got paid for it too!). I also found a summer job that I absolutely love and I’m actually sad that it’s ending in a few weeks (Though I definitely won’t miss waking up at 6 every weekday morning).

My relationship with my ex-partner seemed to be improving; we agreed to spend some time apart, with minimal contact for at least a month, and it helped. We never gave each other the space we needed after the breakup, and it seemed to have eased the tension between us for a bit — until this past Sunday.

I still have a long way to go. I’m still incredibly distrusting of people, and I’m still deathly afraid of talking about my feelings and experiences because I have this sneaking suspicion that my ex-partner will read my posts and text me and threaten me like they did before. I’ve been more vocal about my progress, though I never mentioned what I was progressing from until now.

A few days before they blocked me, my ex-partner said that they just “didn’t like me anymore sometimes” because they thought that I had gotten really “pretentious” lately. They said that I’ve been acting like I’m “morally superior”, and I wasn’t sure what they were talking about until I realized that they were probably referencing the recent posts I’ve been making on Tumblr. I decided to be more vocal with the recent changes I’ve made to my lifestyle. I’ve cut down on consuming alcohol and it’s made a tremendous difference to my health. I started writing again — which is why this blog exists — and it’s been super therapeutic. I’ve been posting more about the stuff I’ve been doing at school, at work, and with my friends and family. I’ve adopted a more positive outlook on life, and while I do slip back into cynicism every now and then I found it a lot better to think better of things. It’s easier said than done, obviously, but it’s a work in progress.

I’ve been more vocal with my mental illness too. I’m more open about it and I continuously talk about seeking treatment because, like a physical illness, mental illness gets worse the longer left untreated — and I’m pretty sure that’s what happened to me. I stopped treatment and I relapsed…but I’m getting help again, and things have gotten so much better.

I’ve been more open with my love for my loved ones as well. I no longer hesitate to tell my friends and family how much I appreciate them, and how important they are to me. It was a mistake I made with my ex, but I’m not planning on repeating it with the remaining people in my life. I want them to know that I want them here. This is also a work in progress, but I feel like I’ve made significant improvement.

I think this was what my ex meant by “pretentiousness”; they mistook my journey to recovery as “moral superiority”. That’s their prerogative, I guess, but openly talking about it is what’s helping me get better and I’m going to keep doing it.

The fact that my ex told me to “fuck off” and blocked me for good this time is a sign that they acknowledge they’ve been mistreating me, but aren’t ready to admit it. Like I mentioned at the very beginning of this insanely long post (The longest I’ve made so far), I never directly mentioned them when I reblogged those posts about emotional manipulation…but they assumed they it was about them, which gives me the impression that they’re somewhat self-aware. I think that’s a good sign, and I hope that someday they’ll come to terms with what they did and will eventually forgive themselves for it.

I’ve done my fair share of fucked up things in the course of this relationship, but I’ve accepted that I did them, and I’m currently trying to learn from them so I can be a better person. I feel really good about myself, and even though it took a long time I really love the life I’m living right now. Things are great, and they’re only going to get better from here. I have a future to work towards, and I know there are a lot of good things waiting for me.

I think another reason why my ex-partner thinks I’m being pretentious because I recently started talking about karma, and how I believe it exists. I’ve seen it work its magic on people, both good and bad. I’ve seen it do good things to people who do good, and bad things to people who do bad. It happened to me many times. I’ve paid for all of the negative energy I churned out, and in many ways I’m still paying for it…but I think I’m doing a lot better now, and it’s starting to show because a lot of good things happened to me lately. I strongly believe that whatever you throw out into this world will come back to you in some shape or form — and I hope that someday, my ex-partner will realize that too.

A part of me is still worried that they will read this post and still think I’m trying to slander them or convince everyone that they’re a horrible person. I’m still afraid that one day I’ll get a threatening text telling me that I’ve painted a horrible portrait of them through this post and that they will never, ever talk to me again and that I deserve the absolute worst — but then I remember that I have them blocked on absolutely everything, and that they have no way of contacting me…at least for now — and if they still do manage to find a way to contact me, I can find ways to combat it. If they really felt the need to go out of their way to contact me just to harass me about this post, then that’s more their problem than mine. It just goes to show that they have a long way to go.

I might have them blocked for now, but I think this is only temporary. I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I don’t believe in hating or disliking someone forever, and that holding grudges are a waste of time and energy. It adds to your karma, too. Why waste your life hating someone when there literally billions of other people out there? Love always wins, and I really believe in that. Blocking them was more of a safety thing than never wanting to talk to them ever again.

Even after everything that’s been said and done, I no longer harbour any hostile feelings towards my ex. I truly hope that they will find it in themselves to forgive me and forgive them, and that they’ll let go of all of the pain and hatred festering inside of them. They won’t be able to live a successful, happy life if they hold onto that hate. I also hope that they find what they’re looking for, and that they treat their current partner better.

There’s still a part of me that hopes we’ll cross paths again. Like I said before, I’ve never had such a close bond with anyone in my life. There are some relationships where you know it’s something not everyone is fortunate to experience in their lifetime, and I truly believe that my relationship with my ex-partner was one of those relationships. There’s a part of me that says we will meet again, and things will be different — but in a good way. I don’t know when or if it’ll ever happen, but I’m going to look forward to it regardless. I’m not perfect, and they definitely aren’t perfect either — but there’s something about our connection that was, if that makes any sense. Even after all the stupid arguments, the false accusations, the manipulation, the abuse, the toxicity, we still loved each other. We loved each other so ferociously that I think it just was too much for the both of us to handle, and we dealt with it in toxic ways. I truly believe that our relationship doesn’t end here. I think there’s still something waiting for us in the future. I don’t know what it is, but I’m excited for it.

The scary part about emotional abuse is that it isn’t always obvious. Sometimes we just don’t realize what we’re doing to other people. I think what’s important — as a victim and a perpetrator — is to be self-aware. Understand that every action has a consequence, and that you are expected to accept responsibility for every consequence no matter if it’s good or bad. There are many ways to emotionally manipulate somebody, and it’s not as widely talked about because I think so many people don’t realize what they’re doing is harmful. I didn’t know I was doing it until it was too late, but at least I’m learning not to do anything like that ever again. I’ve forgiven myself for the stupid shit I’ve done, and I’ve stopped questioning it. What’s done is done, and you can’t change the past. Maybe my mental illness is to blame. Maybe my inexperience with relationships — and human emotions in general — were to blame. Who knows? What matters now is that I know I’ve caused a lot of pain, and I’m slowly but surely learning from my shitty decisions and I’m (hopefully) becoming a better person for it.

Despite the recent setbacks, my life is really good right now, and I’m proud of myself for all the progress I’ve made. I’ve come a long way.

A couple hours after my ex cussed me out, blocked my number, and unfollowed/blocked me on every single existing social media channel, my family and I drove to midtown where we met with another family whose dogs had a litter of puppies (My dad had retired a couple weeks ago and finally, after years and years of begging, my parents allowed us to have a dog). We fell in love with a sweet boy with little brown racing stripes on his nose. We placed a deposit for him, and he’ll be living with us permanently in two weeks. We decided to name him Milo.

He came into my life at just the right time, and I don’t think it was a coincidence either.