February 21, 2017. That was the last time I wrote a piece. It was about the love of my life, or at the time that’s what I thought he was. I wrote and released it on his birthday as his gift. It’s been nineteen months and an odd number of days since I last had the courage to write.

Before I jump straight to the heartbreak and lessons, I’m going to list my achievements and accomplishments.

I graduated high school. I know it’s not much of an accomplishment but for those few of you who know me or have read my previous pieces, knew high school was a very difficult time for me. I wanted so bad to give up and drop out but I could never let my mother down that low. So i held on and walked across that stage, tripping down the stairs on my way back to my seat, bawling.

After I graduated, I spent the summer with him, the boy i loved. I spent every moment with him. Made some memories and had good laughs. I ended up moving in with him in August 2017. I got accepted into a cosmetology program and was more than excited to start making my dream a reality. I was to graduate in November 2019.

Sounds like my life was on track right? Wrong. I was so consumed in this idea of love, that spending every waking moment with him I wasn’t acknowledging everything I was missing.

All but one baseball game for my little brother. I hadn’t seen my mother for four months before her birthday, in November ‘17. I missed out on quality time I could’ve spent enjoying my family parties. I lost many good friends because I was willing to go to the earths ends for him.

I got sick sometime around September, shortly after my birthday and starting my classes at my cosmo school. I was going to school in the morning and working long shifts at a restaurant down the street from where he lived. I was taking care of his every need, from making him food at odd hours of the night while he played his video games, to cleaning his shoes with a towel. All while trying to maintain good grades and get rest for work.

I began eating once a day, throwing up the next morning before I could do anything. I lost some where around thirty-five pounds in three months time. Sometime around late October, I became so exhausted and weak, I took a medical leave from my passion, beauty school.

I was working more and trying to get him on his feet. Searched for cars for him, helped him get through the online driving course and he had the audacity to raise his fist at me. Not only did he raise it, he swung.

I was knocked to the floor, shocked. Blood was running down the side of my head. As i moved my bloodsoaked hair from my face to assess the damage he had inflicted to my ear, I was screaming. I felt like I had just gotten my ear ripped off, I rushed to our bathroom and locked myself in there, documenting what he had just done to me.

My mistake was not taking it directly to the police station. I let him convince me he was just mad, and he didn’t mean to hurt me. He said he loved me and he would never do it again. I felt sick to my stomach and I regret not listening to my gut.

Less than two weeks and it’s my grandmothers birthday so him and I head to the party. My ear wasn’t quite healed so I did my best to cover it up. We had only stayed for about an hour and a half because I made a plea with him. It was a great evening with lots of laughs.

A few days pass and I am back to being at his beckoned call. As I am starting my shower to head to work, I get a message from my grandmother of screenshots.

During those two weeks, the boy I spread myself thin for, was messaging my grandmother. You’re probably thinking, how much worse is this going to get? Well, this is where I didnt let his crocodile tears and sweet nothings make me stay. That evening I called into work and had my sister bring me to her house.

Well here’s the kicker, remember that birthday party I mentioned? Every single person there knew what was said in those messages from him to my grandmother, except for, you guessed it! Me!

I felt betrayed, by him and my family. Him for abusing me and my family for seeing me in such a horrible situation and not saying anything the moment they knew. I eventually forgave my loved ones and focused all my energy on being hurt by him.

I was then angry with myself. How could I have been so naive? How could I give every ounce of love I had to offer and it still wasn’t good enough? What was wrong with me?

It’s now August 1st, 2018. It’s been nine months since I was reminded of my self worth. I moved back home with my mother, found my mental stability again and have high hopes of returning back to school. I have amazing friends and rebuilt the friendships I lost due to being caught up in the toxicity of his mental manipulation. I am working on rebuilding the bonds I broke while dedicating myself to someone who tore me down like the men I was raised to know as fathers.

I am finding myself one day at a time, I am loving every inch of my skin and every quirk that makes me, me. I am building my state of mind again, exploring new opportunities. I am challenging myself to work towards my long term goals and as I move forward in life, I am going to forgive myself.