Not all abusive relationships are strictly physical. However, they all seem to emotionally and physically stunt a person’s development. They leave you empty, broken, and alone. Part of being in an abusive relationship is being alienated from your friends and family, leaving it almost impossible to convince yourself that walking away from the situation is better. Everyone has baggage, but carrying something of this magnitude around is a whole different type of burden. Finding a new partner can be incredibly difficult as you now have to be taught that being treated as lesser than what you are worth isn’t acceptable. Keeping history like this a secret or not acknowledging its existence makes it nearly impossible to maintain a healthy relationship. Regardless of how many years go by, the stress will constantly feel like it ended days ago.

My story isn’t too different from many out there. I met this older guy when I was in my junior year of high school. The whole situation seems surreal trying to reflect on it. He drove me wherever I wanted to go, spoiled me, and made sure I felt as if he was the only one that made me his priority. It took a while for us to officially be dating but the abuse began before that. Now, I could go on about everything I loved about that relationship, but they would all be the excuses I had made to stay with him.

At the time I thought that how I was feeling was because of my age or my mental instability. My friends seemed to see what was going on more clearly than me, but I did not heed their warnings. I was so sure that everyone on the outside just didn’t understand me. I would tell him what was going on in my life regarding my friends, so he slowly pulled me away from them.

He had finished undergrad, was previously engaged, and had me tell his parents that I was attending the local community college. Meanwhile, my parents didn’t approve of this relationship either, so it continued in secrecy. I had to live every day through by telling lies, going places I wasn’t supposed to, sneaking around; it was a miserable existence. He didn’t want me going out when it wasn’t with him, so I would spend days that I wasn’t with him alone at home, lying in bed, stressing out over everything.

I was 16 and focusing on my junior prom, as any young girl would. I decided to take a friend who was a little younger than me, but that didn’t make him very happy. He came to where we were taking pictures to scold me. He took me outside and away from everyone to force me to apologize to him through my tears. Additionally, he ended up being hired as a driver for other kids that attended prom which allowed him to keep an eye on everything that I did. The sensation of constantly being watched felt to me like the having an ever vigilant “big brother” figure, scrutinizing my every move.

There came a point when it became the routine to be found by him and ordered to stop going to my destination. Once, he came to surprise me at home while I was out somewhere else with friends. He called me dozens of times until I picked up and demanded that I run back home or else he “wouldn’t be able to tell me the next time we’d see each other.”

Even worse was a time when my phone died when I was playing flag football at the park with some friends that I hadn’t been able to spend time with in a while. We were arguing since I had told him I wanted to spend time with my friends instead of an impromptu meet up with him. When it came time to walk home, my friends offered to walk me home, but, for whatever reason, I declined. I was halfway home when he walked around a corner, charging straight towards me. My heart dropped and all I wanted to do was to run in the other direction. He held my shoulders, preventing me from leaving. He made me feel as if everything were my fault and I apologized for things that didn’t even happen. When I tried to continue the walk home, he forced me into his car so he knew that my only destination could be my house.

Those were just a few of the many things that happened during that year. He eventually learned to manipulate me through my insecurities. For example, whenever he wanted something that I didn’t, he threatened to replace me with another girl. The worst part was that when I finally tried to end it, he sat in his car outside my house for weeks. At this time I became strong enough not to be sucked in any longer, and I chose to spend the next two months out of state.
So, no, he never hit me. But he didn’t need to. What he put me through was just as bad.

Now, it’s easy to argue that my interpretations of these situations are just one side of the story - and that’s entirely true - but what cannot be argued, what is absolutely irrevocable, is that this was the impact that he had on me. These are the memories that he left me with. I can’t say that I reacted to every situation perfectly, but the nights of being emotionally drained took their toll on me. There comes a point in your life where you have to stop romanticizing the people who hurt you and see them for what they really are, regardless of the pain it may cause. In order to move forward, there has to be a few steps taken back. After 4 years, I am able to see what happened to me while being able to identify and help those who are in the same spot as I was. Being there for those going through this is something that I wish someone had done for me, and I will always be there for those who need me.