What is the cost of healing? Potential embarrassment? Resurfacing shame? It can’t be higher than that of self-betrayal. I bring a torch to a cavern, full of crystallized moments familiar and forgotten. These memories led to the realization that my first adult relationship, one I pined over for years, was emotionally abusive. I’ll face it, but I won’t carry it anymore. Everything looks different in this light, no shine or sparkle until I set it ablaze.
Almost 5 years removed from the relationship, I didn’t recognize the abuse until this summer. A difficult PSO Triangle practice session resurrected a comment from my ex-boyfriend. He once told me, in relation to hobbies and pole, that I didn’t need classes, I didn’t have natural rhythm, and he knew because he dated a stripper. First, I doubt this, he wasn’t built to entertain a self-possessed and alluring woman. Second, why say something so cruel?
In tears I decided to compile a list to share with my therapist. I needed to know if my suspicions were correct. Initially, I gathered 17 instances or recurring behaviors, and she confirmed a toxic and unhealthy relationship with a pattern of abuse. I wasn’t exaggerating or making things bigger in hindsight. I credit social media and the vulnerability of strangers with helping me to question and seek confirmation. It was a relief but how did I get here?
Betraying Myself
Why did I allow this? Why didn’t I say no from the beginning? In Women Who Run With the Wolves (1989) Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés lists one attribute of women with “a disrupted relationship with the wildish force in the psyche” as “life sapping choice in mates”. I was an easy mark from day one. I met him at 18, enamored by charm and lacking experience, boundaries, and common sense. The romantic relationship came eight years later and the time in-between set a terrible precedent.
Dating and relationships weren’t a topic as a teen, a serious disservice in hindsight. I’m not placing blame but trying to understand how I got here. The focus was achieving at school and well-rounded activities, high school me is impressive on paper. Honor roll, varsity track, honors classes and one AP, community programs, Indian Prairie Scholar, full ride college scholarship. The accolades didn’t build my confidence. I arrived at college lacking self-esteem, self-worth, and self-love. I betrayed myself immediately.
Over the course of a decade, I never set any boundaries with him. I ignored red flags whipping out like solar flares. I tried to prove I was lovable by being helpful. If I showed that I was supportive, useful, patient, and understanding then I could prove myself worthy of the love I wanted. I foolishly and mistakenly believed that my assistance would be appreciated. This never works for anyone. I denied few requests. Once a job worked out, there was less stress, and a hobby became consistently joyful things would improve. They never did.
I ignored the warnings of friends, put all my eggs in one basket, and settled. The relationship started with an argument, unsurprising to you, I am sure. I knew there were issues but opted for wishful thinking, denial, or delusions instead of investigating them. I overextended myself financially and stopped considering and working on myself. Even after the relationship ended, I was in denial and didn’t ask questions. I countered the truth of feeling “blah” around him with an alleged “electricity” he gave me. Requests for help and stinging disrespect went hand in hand.
Two things are true: I betrayed myself and a deeply insecure person harmed me. I acknowledge that he was physically threatened and harassed by his ex-girlfriend before me. That experience changed him fundamentally. The end of that relationship was violent and manipulative. Even with knowledge of part of his trauma, there is no excuse for traumatizing me.
But Wait There’s More
Honestly, I don’t know where to begin. So much of this feels like my fault for not saying no and for loving him. I really did love him. He was charming, capable, personable, and seductive. I cared about him and at some point, it seemed like he genuinely cared about and was interested in me. Now, I have no idea if that was real, or I simply wanted to believe it. I do know that my lack of boundaries made me convenient. I was ATM, storage unit, and dumping ground.
Graduation should have been the end, but I kept pining and sticking around. The saddest years are 23-29. 20 something me needs grace, even though I want to jump through a portal, grab her shoulders and shake her while I scream. Girl! He stole money from you, endangered your health with HPV, wrecked your car, claimed there was someone better for you but never fully removed himself, and suggested an instant family. I do give myself credit and kudos for terminating that pregnancy. Even when he threatened to tell my mother, my mind remained unchanged.
In all my stupidity I did one smart thing. Probably by the grace of my praying grandmothers. We weren’t together and had no money. “We can be a family”, excuse me? I haven’t made a great case thus far, but I wasn’t that stupid, I had at least one limit. I can feel your shock and disbelief, “And you stuck around?!” I can only offer that I was detached from my intuition and sense of self. There was no belief in or love for myself. It’s the only answer for accepting any of it.
He would call me a “Disney Princess” derogatorily or “HR” for Human Resources. Anything to belittle me. He would tell me things, a story, share a fact, always something mundane and I would believe him or ask more questions. He would laugh at me and say no or that it wasn’t real. I guess he wanted to see how far he could go and what I would believe. Once he told me his college ex-girlfriend didn’t like me. We never met, so why would she? His description of her general character didn’t match this claim anyway.
He took all my laundry quarters once and said nothing until I found the pouch empty on laundry day. The amount of money I lent him accumulated to a deeply embarrassing figure. Despite saying he would, he never paid me back on time or at all. He would get upset when I, on very rare occasions, asked him about repaying money I needed. Easy lessons here, don’t share what you can’t afford to be without and never give money to men. He never repaid the deductible, as he promised my parents, after wrecking my car. That tension strained my relationship with them for a while and stressed me out constantly.
Conversations that I thought were about communication or intimacy, always turned into him ranting about money. I rarely brought it up, but he was clearly bothered by his debts; never stopped the requests though. He would say he couldn’t talk to me because I was too emotional. Asking about his day in the evenings upset him, it was a boring question. I genuinely wanted to know; every day is different. He refused to take my car to the dealership for oil changes, it took too long. I enjoy a playful touch or pat, but he used to slap my butt hard at random. I tried to laugh it off but eventually I would flinch if he walked behind me.
Imagine someone you love saying “I could have cheated on you by now.” If I didn’t repeat something he said to me back exactly, he would get angry and raise his voice. Lashing out with “Don’t tell me what I said” or “You better get it right”. He snapped at me when my utensil grated across the bottom of a nearly empty bowl. He didn’t like that I tried to broach touchy subjects after he’d had a drink or smoked. That was the only time he would extend me some kindness regarding those subjects.
I told him I felt I had to walk on eggshells and he said that was my fault. When I told him I didn’t feel appreciated, he said if I felt that way then “fuck you.” Near the end, a favorite was “I’ll be the bad guy”. One night, ahead of moving to my new house, I came home to find all my spices and kitchen items pulled out of the cabinets. He never offered to help me pack. Physically and mentally exhausted, this passive aggressive move brought me to tears.
I used to describe him as a ham. Now I see insecurity. He would get loud and draw attention when he felt less than or disappointed. Even tried to start a fight once. Very different from when his competitive hobby went well, then he was quiet, to himself, and focused. He would stay away from anything or anyone that could potentially disrupt him.
The Cycle of Abuse
The ever-evolving cycle of abuse theory has four stages in the original model: tension-building, incident of abuse, reconciliation, and calm. Simply put, stressors build up, the tension is released to regain power or control, tension decreases mixed with apologies via gifts or promises, lastly actions are minimized or excused. My therapist described this cycle to me adding that when you meet there’s a strong attraction and things are great or they need you. A classmate introduced my ex and I, after he mentioned her to me since we interacted regularly in class and sat together.
I can best recognize the cycle in the second and final year of the relationship. I don’t remember why but he told me “You can’t be in my face all the time”. A blow for an affectionate person. Two months later, I startled him with a kiss when he was asleep on the couch. He snapped and cursed, slamming the bathroom door. I stayed away the rest of the day and he barely spoke three words to me the next. Later, I was told that if he wasn’t speaking to me, it’s not about me and I should ask what’s happening and not get upset. Five months later he was unsure if he was in love with me and thought our relationship should end. He didn’t move out.
In another two months we were on a cruise happily bouncing between Caribbean islands. Other passengers even mistook us for a married couple. The day the cruise ended, he disappeared for hours leaving me alone in our hotel room. He returned after midnight to tell me that he didn’t know where we were going, and he wanted to be able to love me like I loved him. He lamented he couldn’t be made to feel bad about himself forever. I felt horrible and didn’t want him to be hurt or tormented. I thought it was my job to fix the rift between him and my parents. A reasonable person would have kept his commitment and communicated if he was unable to do so.
Two months later he rejected an invitation to spend Thanksgiving with my family, a generous olive branch. A week before Christmas, I showed up to a family event alone, no one knew where he was. On Christmas, he promised to take me shopping and gave me a beautiful card. It was full of everything I wanted to hear, I felt good, loved, and adored. Feelings of being unwanted and unloved immediately dissipated. I was hopeful but too afraid to ask what he saw for us on New Years Day. I viewed that as a failing on my part, unable to open up.
By the end of January, he claimed he wasn’t in a relationship place and that we should be friends. How did we get here again? There was a power outage, and I was watching Game of Thrones on my phone. Didn’t I see his texts? He also didn’t like that I kept asking where we were going when he walked in and told me to get my things. I said I would rather sit there in the dark than go anywhere with him. I’d had enough of being ignored and then given orders. I could hear him cursing from the bathroom and then he left slamming the apartment door. Gathering my courage, I messaged to say he hurt my feelings and I deserved better.
It took almost three months for me to confirm that our relationship was over. He didn’t move out, he was distant, but very much still around. An extended version of a familiar pattern. In that conversation I brought up trust as an issue, he pivoted to owing my parents. He said I kept bringing money up to make myself feel bigger or better. A week later when I, at the urging of my therapist, asked if he thought continuing to live together was a good idea, he turned it on me. He said I should ask myself that since he had already brought it up. Yet, he continued to live in the apartment where only my name was on the lease.
Another three months passed, I prepared to buy my house, and we had another conversation. I reiterated not feeling appreciated. Apparently, that hurt his feelings the first time and he tripled down on “If that’s how you feel then fuck you.” He said it multiple times that night. This is the night he told me I didn’t need pole classes and had no rhythm. I shared a townhouse option with him and apparently, I didn’t need three bedrooms. A few days later he claimed he would buy my couch for me. I finally ignored a request for money, and he thanked me. Sarcastically, I’m sure. The last time I saw him in person was to drop off my apartment key, he took over the lease. “’Preciate it” and turned his back on me.
Ripple Effect
During the relationship, I constantly felt inadequate. I wasn’t trying hard enough, wasn’t open enough, and couldn’t get it together. Despite keeping us housed and fed, I was failing. After the breakup, my dreams were triggered by stress and heartbreak. Add in the pandemic lockdown, I faced what felt like bouts of depression. I began to realize that I’d betrayed myself. I felt dull, lifeless and struggled to put myself first. My best friend mentioned the loss of light in my eyes when I finally called her about the breakup.
There were two consecutive days in the summer where I felt detached and fuzzy for several hours. My thoughts were scattered, I was forgetful and distracted. Heading to the airport one morning I thought the detachment and airiness meant I was going to die. I avoided driving past a construction area, afraid that it would be the sight of my demise. I made it to the airport and thought I was possibly losing my mind. I headed home to help my mom after optical surgery and only had one fuzzy day during that week.
Anger filled me, I started gritting my teeth and cried constantly. As I prepared to move, I knew I would miss him, I was used to having him around. Whenever I thought about it a strange pain settled in my sternum. The excitement over my new home never lasted more than a few minutes. As the year changed, I recognized that I had been in love with a dream, with potential. I had to fight for my life in 2021. I felt worthless and useless. I don’t mind alone time, but it became overwhelming.
I hadn’t reached out with any of my problems for years. I regret not confiding in my friends. I was unhappy but didn’t want to be annoying always complaining about my boyfriend. I held everything inside. I felt small, stupid, and unserious. I continued to keep everything to myself; I was lonely and battling passive suicidal ideations. Kept that last part from my therapist. I was unmotivated and avoiding people due to my consistently horrible mood.
I picked up painting to keep my mind away from dark places. I wept over not being good enough for someone who didn’t even have it all together. I passed out in the shower one day but was able to get out and make it to my bed. I didn’t want to miss my therapy appointment if it happened again. Looking back, the episode was probably triggered by stress. By May, I was coming out of the dark period. I was tired of lamenting over someone who didn’t care about me. I refocused on myself, looking for the life I wanted and deserved.
Long term, I’ve noticed that I clash spectacularly with insecure people who project. They trigger feelings shaped by my ex-boyfriend who was insecure, troubled, and projected his mess on to me. This summer I realized I don’t trust my own mind. I’m terrified of making the same mistakes again. Will I recognize this pattern in someone else, what if I ignore red flags again? I’m a smart person but all of this feels contrary to that descriptor.
Don’t Tell Nobody But God
Why let this out now? In July, I knew I needed to address the relationship trauma. It haunted me. The defenses I have aren’t normal, they’re extreme. I bawled one night when I realized how much hurt still lived in me. The feeling of walking on eggshells and being afraid to upset him was visceral. He was so mean to me. I couldn’t deal with it alone, so I took it to my therapist.
I was grateful for her confirmation of my suspicions, but I didn’t know what to do with the feelings. For days after a dull ache stretched across my forehead. Anxiety or trauma, who knows. I was mad that I let this happen to me. I ignored red flags and foolishly persisted. Different choices would have changed my life. This isn’t a unique experience, I never thought I was too good, I just didn’t imagine he would be abusive.
I wondered if I could use my PSO Triangle piece, “Tyrant”, as a healing place. Call some of my power back. I won my section and felt an immediate confidence boost. I came back to myself, parts of me connected again. Belief in myself blazed instead of flickering like a pilot light. For a long time, it lay dormant. Stagnant, extinguished, dead. The very thing I allegedly couldn’t do, brought a medal and new life.
I’ve spent years rebuilding myself. Dismantling thought patterns, digging into personal narratives, building a life on a new foundation. I’ve forgiven myself for betraying myself. I am not that person anymore. My sense of self is restored. Decisions are made based on what I know in my gut is right for me. I take time to care for myself now, I only do what I want to do. Feelings and plans are shared with my friends and family. It isn’t easy to rewire my brain, but I continue to try.
Exhale, My Love
Each journal entry I read, each key I press, I feel less shame. Reliving the relationship and years before it are less painful and embarrassing each time. It’s sad, a little pathetic even but I have empathy for past me, younger me. She didn’t have the tools, she didn’t recognize her own worth, she felt inadequate for her larger set of dreams and therefore allowed less than she deserved.
I feel no shame in saying I was wrong. I was wrong about my ex-boyfriend. He was not the one for me. I handled the entire situation incorrectly and it’s okay. It’s morally neutral, the past cannot change. I abandoned my intuition, lacked boundaries, self-esteem and self-worth. To maintain and propel my progress I must let go of the shame of wrongness. Love should not be that hard. There is a difference between dedication and disdain. A lost me accepted this relationship but I will not blame unhealed folks for abuse we suffer. We do not court, request, or desire it. Abuse is covert, you may not know you’re in it until you’re removed from it.
This is the first time I’ve visited the cavern and reflected in macro to see the pattern. During that time, I forgot that I’m magic, but I’ve reclaimed it. The truth is, I want to be loved. A great love, a deep one. One where we sit in comfortable silence. My previous relationship was never going to be that, and I was afraid to look. It’s always fear. Fear of trying, fear of it not working out. I talk about fear often in hopes of releasing its hold on me, it stagnates and defiles. Betrays and lies. It’s better to try and fail than to stay stuck due to fear.
I’m not afraid anymore. No fear in living or loving myself. Loving myself is what will bring the life I want and eventually the love I seek, no matter how long it takes. In the meantime, I’m warmed by the fire that turns these memories to ash and carries them away on the wind.
Resources:
National Domestic Violence Hotline – 1.800.799.SAFE (7233)
Office of Family Violence Prevention and Services – via the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services and Administration for Children & Families
Office for the Prevention of Domestic Violence (New York State) – Information on Domestic Violence
