I didn't even know it was possible, but I was one part of a long distance emotionally abusive relationship
A lot of background history makes this complicated, although, it should seem very simple. I thought I was a Feminist. I thought I was independant and strong. Until I met him. I was forced to do things I never wanted. ANd I didn't even know it was possible, but I was one part of a long distance emotionally abusive relationship.
How's that for ridiculous?!
We dated for 2 months. Tried to stay friends (continuing the emotional abuse) for an extra 4.
He'd call me, screaming and degrading me for half an hour. Call back (sometimes hours later) apologizing and sweet talking me. I always thought it was my fault. Tried to be on my best behavior.
When we would see each other, I'd offer sex as the only way to make him stop. Gather closer as protection. Again, how ridiculous.
He had this particularly infuriating habit of becoming good friends with my friends, and then talking to them about how awful I was being. So they could add in on it too. "Stop being such a bitch," they'd say. I never peeped.
I never told them the way it felt to feel my hands held down. That I've never hated my body and my weakness more. I felt disgusting. I want to Cry at the memory. I never told them that my parents fought a lot when I was a kid, so i'm generally unconfrontational and shrink to be yelled at. I didn't tell them I started wearing more and more concealing bland clothing because I didn't want to be looked at. I didn't tell them that sometimes all I had to do was wait for him to explode, I didn't need to say a thing.
There were times I wish he'd hit me. At least then it would be obvious. Not the kind of passive aggressive harm that crawls under your skin, unnoticed, infecting and changing your entire life right before your eyes. I wish he would hit me because the physical pain would be a relief from what was going on inside.
He'd fuck me dry, tell me it was shit, that I needed to be a better lay. Romantic, huh?
Finally cut him off, not being able to admit to myself that I was "one of those women."
Two years later I found out he gave me HPV, the kind that turns to cancer. THe lasting effects of Ex's goes on indefinately. It was only then I allowed myself to look back at what had transpired. It came rushing back. I cried every day for months, waiting for test results and doctor calls.
I was lost for awhile, dealing, alone, not telling a soul. I felt like this was my bed. I need to lay in it. No one needs to know, no one needs to know how weak I am. No one wants to know the grief I'm in. I told myself this was the pain of being a woman. That I had never truly known a secret or known the role society had alotted to me until then. I learned my place.
I will never forget and I will never forgive him for teaching me. So many people speak of forgiveness and the therapy of loving those that have hurt us. I do not wish the best for him. I do not hope he one day finds love. My anger is all I have against him now. And distance. I hope one day to shelter anyone and everyone from these exact emotions.
You think you make the right choices in life. I never drink, I don't smoke, I've never done any drugs. I'm not careless or reckless. I'm not promiscuous, not even a little. I'm a good person, I try to help everyone I'm able. I never keep count with friends about anything. I'm kind. I'm loving, incredibly loving, i'm in love with love. My best feature has always been my utter love for humanity, my bleeding heart, (He almost took that away from). You think if you're a good person and you conduct your life responsibly you will reduce the harm that comes your way. That's wrong. It's all wrong. You can't doubt yourself, your goodness, ability to love, or how you act, because the amount of bad that you receive. There is only so much you can do, and the amount of bad in the world is insurmountable. We must keep fighting. You must continue the "right" choices. No matter what wrong confronts you.
One year later, after much contemplation and growth, I can see. I can see that he crossed a boundary. That I cannot blame the victim always. That I don't have to give up on myself. That I can be strong. That I am independant. And that a woman, above all else, a woman, myself as a woman can be empowered.
I was a feminist. I always will be. I will always fight for the strength of not only my sex, but my people, for all else disempowered, for everyone who has been "othered." I have a voice. I will speak.
And the words uttered by my soul will can change millions.
One day My Heart will truly realize the intricacies of this story.