Some lessons really are learned the hard way.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my almost 20 years of life, it’s to never trust anyone who bashes people from their past. This especially goes for potential life partners.
You know those people who bring up ex-lovers, friends, or even family members, and NEVER have a kind word to speak.
Why do you think that is?
I never really snapped to this until one night, I was sitting in the corner of my tiny apartment bathroom, fearing for my life, sure that once my then boyfriend got through that door my life would be over.
It was in that moment that I remembered a story he once told me, when the courtship was still fresh, and I still had some spark in my eyes. It was a story about how his ex-girlfriend and him had gotten in a fight one night, during which she went absolutely crazy and tried to beat him with a piece of wood she found laying around, and then proceeded to lock herself in the bathroom, refusing to come out until someone came to pick her up. Now you hear that and you think “man, why would she do something like that” and she’s automatically labeled the “psycho ex girlfriend” and you laugh it off, going on about your day, and push the story to some deep chasm of your brain, apparently only opened the same time your fight or flight kicks in.
Well there I was, stuck in the corner of the bathroom, clutching a plastic body loofa that I would have to forge as a weapon had the door decided to fail me before my help could arrive. Thats when it hit me like a brick fucking wall.
This story sounded awfully familiar, and I finally realized why. I was the soon to be “psycho ex girlfriend.” Alone, sitting on the bathroom floor, crying my eyes out, prepared to fight for my life if need be.
I had inadvertently placed myself in a situation I thought could never happen to me. I was smart. I was independent, and never was I going to let a guy lay his hands on me. But in the end, I was wrong.
Abuse doesn’t shine through a photogenic smile, nor is it obvious on a first kiss. Holding hands can still give you butterflies, and love can still seem to blossom.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, It’s that abuse can be cloaked in petal coated bath water, and hidden behind candle lit picnic dinners. But no matter how beautiful the coating, time will always scrape away at it, revealing the darkness behind. One day your going to look at that person, either covered in bruises, or shaking in fear, and realize that the devil isn’t ugly, he might even be your best friend, and although you know he’s slowly killing you, you can’t will yourself to leave.
My names Vanessa, and my life was ruined by one person. I had my entire life stolen from me, and almost lost my battle with my abuser. Its been a year since I walked away, and I still have not recovered everything I’ve lost, but I’m on the road to recovery, and part of that recovery is telling my story, and learning to accept the things that have happened to me. This blog is going to be for myself, to vent, and to hopefully aid in my healing process.
To anyone who actually reads this, anyone going through a similar situation, or just anyone in general, I wish you well, and hope you have the strength to overcome your hardships.