To all those that have been abused in any way, shape or form; may you find your inner strength.

I was 14 years young and a freshman in high school when I met the boy that would end up becoming my abuser in every way. He was two years older than me and a junior in high school. We shared a health class together and in the beginning, I thought he was a nice kid. He showed interest in me, protected me from the other students that were unkind to me, and warned me about the ones to stay away from. I thought this was going to be my best friend for a long time. What I didn’t know was that he would end up being my worst nightmare.

We dated in secrecy for years and he lived with my family and I. His father had supposedly committed suicide when he was only two years young and his mother was, well, quite honestly crazy. Or was she? My family liked him in the beginning and found him to be good to me. He would drive me to school with him and take me home. When we were at school however, we acted like we didn’t know each other. I was this big secret that loomed within him and only his closest friend knew the truth. Looking back now I understand he wasn’t ashamed of me so much, he was ashamed of himself. You might ask yourself why, and here is my explanation.

He was shorter than me, by maybe two inches, but his bone structure and frame was more petite than me. See, I’m almost six feet tall, and my genes don’t fit your average size girl. It took me years to recognize it, but he was ashamed of himself because of his own insecurities. The worst part was that he took them out on me in every way fathomable. Finding the source of his animosity towards me took years and years of thinking and countless nightmares to realize this. His biggest mistake would be making fun of me for being overweight, for telling me I was an embarrassment to society and everyone around me, but more importantly, that I couldn’t achieve my goals.

I didn’t have my driver’s license yet, so the next best thing was to count on him for getting around town when my parents were traveling. One day after school I needed a ride home and since they were out of town, I counted on him to pick me up. Well, let me tell you something. Not only did he not pick me up, but he completely disregarded the danger he put me in when he told me to walk home that day. I got out at four o’clock that afternoon and my backpack was full. Walking home from school would have been no big deal if it was a mile or two away, but my school? It was nine miles away and counting. Not only did I have to walk on a major road full of heavy traffic and high-speed zones, it led to the interstate that I would have to walk just to make it home. I was offered rides by strangers and one I feared had other intentions than just helping out a teenager, if you know what I mean. Sure enough, when I got home, he was sitting on my parents’ bed playing the Xbox. His response when I got home? “Oh good, you probably lost a few pounds.” That was it for me. I knew things had to change and fast.

We joined a gym together that fall when I became a sophomore in high school. I had just turned fifteen that May and by the fall we were working out almost every day; just not together as a boyfriend and girlfriend might. So, I did the next best thing and decided to hire a personal trainer! Not only did this man become my hero, but he became what would turn out to be a big brother to me and a confidant that I placed my trust in. Knowing how my abusive “boyfriend” treated me, he didn’t like him, at all. In fact, he taught me ways to defend myself and I began training like a beast at the gym. With his Marine training and my passion fueled by a fire inside of me, I saw life changing results in about eight months. Within that time frame, I had gained self-esteem, learned to love myself for me, and defend myself in more ways than one.

His abuse was more than just name calling and making fun of me in front of other students at school. That is what I would classify as bullying. It went beyond that to the point where I feared him with every molecular structure in my body. If I angered him in any way, I would get slapped, punched, spit on, and the list continually goes on. One incident also stands out to mind that I still replay to this day. We had been fighting one day, which was nothing new. I had given him his cell phone because he missed a call and he didn’t want me even touching his phone. So, he started getting physically violent and abusive with me. In order to defend myself, my trainer along with my Dad, had always said to get a man down on their knees, you know where to nail them. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so I did the only thing I thought would stop him. Not only did he fall to his knees, but he quickly got back up, called me names and swung a punch into my lower abdomen so hard I fell against the sliding glass window and collapsed to the floor. I couldn’t move and with all my might, I tried, but the pain was too unbearable.

These issues always occurred when nobody was around and there were never physical marks left long enough to show someone what had happened. Soon enough I was able to drive and had the freedom of getting away from him when I could. I began training outside of the gym with my personal trainer and did better than ever before. With his help and my determination, I lost 102+ pounds in eight months and was no longer the embarrassment that my abuser saw me as. With breast reconstruction done and a little liposuction to rid the excess fat deposits in certain areas, I was and equally felt as beautiful as I looked. Although he was still abusive, he wasn’t ashamed to show me off to his friends and I had begun to gain a new outlook on life.

I should have had the courage to walk away from him, but for whatever reason, after going through so much with him, I still feared him and what he might do to me if things got even more out of control than they already were. In front of my family and friends he was a harmless fly, but behind closed doors, he was like a cobra lurking in the grasses, always waiting to strike at his next meal, which happened to be me. When I finished my sophomore year of high school I switched to a different school that he had no affiliation with. He was still in my life, but he was in college now, living with us and his friends when he felt like it. There were times he would disappear for weeks and ignore my concerned calls. Looking back, I should have recognized the bliss I had with him being gone instead of showing concern for him.

Once I started the new school year, I was sixteen, driving, and free from his malarkey. I began making my own friends, had seen that boys and young men, weren’t all evil and sadistic. I had begun to see the world in a different light. Since we weren’t an open relationship in society and our status was held in secret, when someone would ask me out, I had to politely decline even though I desperately wanted to rid my life of him. My abuser was like a leech and I just couldn’t shake him off. He continually sucked the life out of me by creating emotions of guilt and shyness that I didn’t deserve to feel. He would tell me that the friends I had at my new school weren’t genuine and that none of them care for me like he did. What a joke he turns out to be.

One young man in my class and my best friend at the time were considered my social circle outside of school. It didn’t occur to me until much later that this fellow student had feelings for me and as a result, I had to gently turn him down because of my abuser still being in the picture. He understood and we remained friends, but his feelings never went away. Looking back I wish I had the courage to say yes to him and go on a date, because my current relationship was just a big, fat, nightmare haunting me through my days.

Now I was seventeen and a junior in high school. I had just gone back to school from winter break and things were about to change for me, dynamically. One day when we had both gotten home from school, he had come from the local college and I came home from high school, had gotten into a fight. This was the worst fight yet because what I’m about to tell you changes the entire dynamics of this article. The young man that was in my class had called or sent me a text message, but I didn’t get to my phone in time because I was cooking. My abuser takes my phone and starts questioning me as to why this young man was calling me. He made fun of him, mocked him and told me to never speak to him again. I had finally had enough of this and decided it was then that I would stand up for myself.

This fight stands out to me the most out of any because it was life changing and would show me that my true strength would shine through. Not only did I stand up for my friend that he so blatantly bashed, but I also stood up for myself too. This time, I had no fear, though. I was going to be fierce and stand my ground, ready for whatever came at me. I got in his face, grabbed my phone, and told him to get the hell out of my house. My mom and little sister had just walked in, dumbfounded to find him walking out as they were walking in. It was then that I had finally told my mother everything that had been going on. Not only was she obviously proud of me for throwing him out, but also relieved that I was okay and standing my ground, ready to fight.

He disappeared for a few weeks, nowhere to be found, but I always knew he was likely watching me from a distance. He just had this presence about him that was, well, creepy. Finally, I was free of him, but not for long. He would eventually contact me on social media, through text messages, and try to call me. Sooner than later, after endless counseling and thinking, I decided to confront my abuser after all these years of such excruciating torment. When I asked him why he felt it was okay to hurt me, he said that he never hurt me, but in fact felt he was “helping me.” My father had spoken to his uncle some time later on and found out that his nephew had been in quite a dosage of therapy himself for many a years.

Part of me wanted to feel sorry for him and the other, well the other part of me didn’t give a damn about him and what he went through as a child into an adult. How could I possibly care about someone that beat on me because I said the wrong thing or didn’t “listen” to him and his demands. I just couldn’t, nor would I allow myself to become weak again. To this day, very few people know what happened to me until now. A select and chosen few were told not for pity, but to gain a better understanding of whom I am and what I had to go through to become the woman I am today. Do I still flinch if I feel someone is going to raise a hand to me, but goes to hug me instead? Yes, sadly so. The damage that he inflicted will always be a piece of my back story, but I will not allow it be my baggage. If you’re finding yourself asking what ever happened to us, I’m about to tell you.

Since Facebook made its big debut into the world of social media, he has messaged me telling me he loves me and misses me, that he wants to talk and catch up, sends his phone number and so forth. Me on the other hand? I am celebrating my freedom from an abusive individual that is no longer in my life. I no longer fear him or anyone else. I know what I deserve and I won’t settle for less than that.

If you or someone you know is being abused in any way, please know there is help available to you. Do not feel that you deserve the mistreatment and bullying because you don’t. There are hotlines available to you and your loved ones. If the situation becomes dangerous and life threatening, please know to call 911 immediately and the police will be able to help you immediately. Don’t ever fall victim to abuse. If you have, currently are, or fear you may be entering a situation that is abusive, tell someone you are close to that you can trust and get the help you need to put an end to it immediately. Remember, abuse is not deserved by any means from anyone.

Stay strong!