Alright, so this whole emotional mumbo jumbo is something I truly enjoy writing about. However, when it comes to talking about things that I've personally gone though-- not so much. But, ignoring that it happened is starting to affect so many aspects of my life and I just want it to stop. I don't really know how else to get it out, so I guess a good way to talk about things is by writing about it. Bear with me, I don't really do this.

I'm not sure where to start, so let's take it back to the beginning. I briefly mention every so often that I dated this guy for about 5 years. I never say much, just that it was bad. Things happen and that was that. Well, bad is an understatement.

It started off great. Little 16-year-old me fell hard for this boy. He was confident and strong, I admired everything about him. I was so ridiculously in love I thought he could do no wrong.

Wrong. He did.

My best friends and I rented a beach house over the summer a few years back. I was so excited, we had been planning it all year. My boyfriend and I were serious at this point, or as serious as you can be at twenty.

We were never really into the whole party scene-- but, my friends thought it might be fun to throw one while we had the house. I saw no harm in the matter, but my Ex was very, how you say-- straight edge. He was totally against the party, but it happened anyway.

It was a great time, minus my raging ex. All I wanted to do was bring everyone together, but no. He was so angry. I tried to calm him down, we went into our room and we talked. It was fine, he was fine-- or so I thought.

One thing leads to another and we ended up having sex. It was always something we did during special moments, or so he'd like to say. But every time we did he'd always have something to say. "You're not good enough," "everything you do is wrong," "how could you be so stupid," were just some of the typical side comments.

I'm a very understanding person and I get having anger issues are sometimes out of your control. But it went too far.

The time at the beach house-- that was the worst. I'm not sure what snapped inside of him, I don't think I ever will. I used to always view sex as a moment of giving yourself to someone. Breaking down walls and becoming one with this person. I wanted to wait until I was with someone special-- I really wish I was smarter about it.

As we're in the middle of, you know... things, he lost it. All the anger he held inside of him slipped into my body. His hand whipped across my face. He pushed me off the bed and told me that I should give up on my dreams. He said everything I wanted I was too stupid for my own good.

Cool, so yeah I got right out of there. Ran very far away and ended things immediately. Then, he shows up at work.

He's holding this little black box filled with letters, you know- those really cutesy ones that say "open when you feel *insert emotion here*." He asked me if I would be willing to talk. Everything inside of me said don't, but I felt too bad to not.

We ended up driving to the outlets and worked things out. I'm very patient and I get that sometimes people do things that they don't know how to control. I was naive and wanted to be the girl to change him.

Yeah, here's some advice: don't do that.

At first, it was fine. He got back on track and it was okay. But, I still wasn't. On the outside I was fine, on the inside-- I was falling apart. They say the biggest smile cries the most tears, well it's not wrong. I was so concerned with making sure he stayed in check that I disregarded my own mental well-being.

I never felt like I was good enough in the first place. I was bullied pretty heavily as a kid. They would always say my nose was too big, my voice was too high pitched- basically I was the third-grade outcast. It wasn't until I met my ex, in my tenth-grade year of school when I actually started to like myself.

Anyways, his "good spell," yeah it didn't last long. After having a panic attack in the middle of the freeway traffic from him screaming about my driving for no reason at all, I drew the last line.

The day I was cutting him off, the day I was ended things for good. He got sick, really sick.

At this point, I was leaving to move to Florida in a few weeks. I wanted nothing to do with him. But I cared. I couldn't break up with him when he needed me now more than ever. I suppressed everything and tried to be there for him. I wanted to, but I couldn't.

I wish I didn't care as much as I did, but that's just who I am. I did finally cut him off. He's out of my life now and even though it's been almost two years since, ever since that happened-- it still has an effect on me.

It was more than just that moment at the beach house, but that's the one that plays every time I'm with another guy.

I'm always thinking, when's the next time he's going to hurt me? When's the next time he's going to make me feel bad about myself? And so I push away.

I've pushed so many great guys away. I know I've hurt some good people by doing this. I'm so sorry for that. I know it's why I haven't been able to keep a relationship longer than like two weeks. I'm just scared.

I don't want to be afraid anymore. I miss having someone to care about. I'm a very independent person and I don't need a guy in my life, it's just nice to have that connection with someone. I feel like I'm ready for that again, just I feel like no one wants to put up with all of these damages.

So I don't talk about it, ever-- well until this. I mean, I'm fine now. Picking up everything I knew and moving to Florida had a lot to do with that.

I refer to Florida as my home because I came here and I could be myself again. When I took a year off of life and worked for Disney World, it was much more than just working for Disney. I worked on myself. I met incredible people, I found what made me happy and got back on my feet. For the first time in my life I felt confident. I felt like the sky was my only limit. I was empowered by a world full of magic. I couldn't be more thankful for that experience.

I've grown so much from where I've been. I can honestly say I'm proud of what I've become. But, I still suck with guys.

Part of me is always going to be wary of when's the next time I'm going to get hurt. Which is actually hurting me more... logic.

I guess what I need is for the next guy to understand. That's exactly why I'm putting this out there. It's hard for me to talk about, but writing is my gray area of comfort. If I've pushed you away, I truly am sorry. I just wasn't ready.

I am now. I'm not looking for anything, I just kind of hope one day the right guy will come along. I hope there will be someone out there who will be patient with me, and not turned off by the fact that I went through this. I get that it's a lot of ask for.

It's okay. It's better than hiding it. I just felt like I needed to explain why I'm like this.