Abuse is NOT Love

I can still hear the shattering of glass as it broke two inches from my face.

My first thought should have been “I can’t believe he did this.” However, he no longer surprised me by these temper tantrums that he would swirl our world into. Chaos was as normal as breathing to me.

I met him when we were seventeen. His smile, his eyes, they always shone so brightly. His laugh was intoxicating, and everyone around us gravitated towards him. So, when he chose me, when he bought me flowers and picked me up in his old Ford, I felt like I had won the lottery. He was my Prince Charming; and I was completely obsessed. When things began to change, I was already so invested in our “Happily Ever After” that I couldn’t see how toxic he had become.

It started slowly. We hung out so often, my friends began to dissipate in importance. I stopped showing up to family dinners because he would plan the most extravagant of date nights. He started encouraging me to wear the outfits he chose for me; and it became personal when I didn’t want to do exactly as he asked. He asked me to move in with him. I thought it was because I was his princess, that I was his world. Then, he started guilt-tripping me every time I moved or breathed without his command. I couldn’t leave the house or work. I needed to be a submissive, obedient woman. He needed to take care of me; and I needed to listen. When I didn’t listen, what started as eyes of disappointment slowly turned into ruined vases, shattered plates, holes in walls, and broken hopes.  

We were together for three years. Three years I dedicated to this man who seemed to be the love of my life. But under the disguise of love, he manipulated me into a person I couldn’t recognize- a woman who didn’t even remember how to think for herself. He stole 3 years from me. He stole my hope, he stole my joy, he stole my soul... all in under the lie that he loved me. But abuse is not love- it is a crime.

It took voices in my life- cops, nurses, family- to encourage me to move. At 20 years old, I restarted my entire life from scratch. I started a new job, made a new friend group, and started to go to therapy. It has taken years to realize that what happened to me was not because of who I was, but because of who he is. I was a young girl who wanted to be love and be loved; he was a boy who needed to gain control and was willing to hurt anyone to receive that. He loved power more than he loved me. And I loved him more than I loved myself. We were not the same.

Now, at almost 30 years old. I am happily married with my first child on the way. I am loved more than I can believe; and I am cherished and respected in ways that I could never have imagined. There is hope in this world; and there is love to be had. Keep growing. Keep loving. Keep believing.