Letters From the Broken

Telling My Side-The First Entry

~Author's Note: This is based on (about 80% recount of) a true story. The events you are about to read about are of no simple matter, and can be very strong subject to some readers. This is being posted the way it is not only as a way to say fuck you to my abuser, but to put my story out there continue the process needed to take to heal. If this is a chapter you so wish to skip, by all means. However, negative feedback of ANY kind will not be tolerated in any way, shape or form, and users spreading any type of negativity will be blocked. This was hard enough to finish from the drafts I had all those years ago, and I'm only just now in the mindset to be able to speak about it. So it's either now or never.~

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I'm going to risk basically every bit of dignity I have left as a person and as a writer, and put my story all on the line so that it no longer sits in my head like it has for almost six long fucking years.
Yes, six. Give or take, but six.
I was fine for a while, a few years in fact-drowning myself in meaningless relationships, partying and doing dumb shit, but when I had to take a step back and essentially calm down, the things I was pushing back with doing everything I was doing came back to the forefront of my mind for the first time in what felt like a long time. At that point, I knew then that I had to face six years' worth of things that I managed to pretend didn't happen to me, whether I liked it or not.

Believe me, I couldn't remember what I ate for breakfast this morning or if I worked a shift on this day back last month, but I could sure remember every single way, big or small, my abuser destroyed everything I was as a person before I even knew a person could be destroyed in such a manner. I also thought it was okay. I could also remember how he did what he thought was "lifting me up," then absolutely destroying me every time I got on any type of social media because I would find the people he was secretly "dating" liking his pics while I came home from long tiring days at work making the money not only to support myself, but to support us, made him dinner every night, and loved him like a partner should have.

Why the thought of all of this still bothers me in as small of a way that it does, I have not a clue in the world-ESPECIALLY when I'm in the happiest relationship I think I could have EVER been in. In fact, I'm planning to marry this headache of a human in less than a year and these things bother me because I cannot for the fucking life of me see what I am worth anymore after I gave someone so undeserving a lifetime's worth of love and everything in between and it was crushed and tossed aside like a Pepsi can out a car window moving down a highway. Even after I was so in love and blinded by what I thought was love it was sickening. Sickening not only to me, but to my family and all of my friends who loved and cared enough about me to CONTINUOUSLY pick me up after I was knocked down, more times than I could count while I was with him.

I learned to grow out of that love I had for him after he had the nerve to put his hands on me in his mom's front yard, and multiple times again in the apartment we shared (I still question why I did that) after I had attempted confrontation for the numerous (I lost count after 10 or so) times he had cheated on me with men and women and everything in between, and not to mention the one time one hot morning in August he forced himself on me and took advantage of me. "Partner" or not it was still what it was. Call it what you will, for sense of beating around the bush, but yeah. Not once did he even think about how it hurt me like hell to have to deal with all of that as a person. I was 15 when it all started-when I met him, and I went through it during the ages 16, 17, AND 18 until something woke up inside me and told me to fight back, and then again to run like a bat out of hell from it all and not think for a fucking second back on any of it.

What really blew me out of the water, for lack of a better term, was him saying at the very end that it all hurt him. What he stated "hurt" him was the idea of losing me but not once did he think to have a legitimate excuse as to why he did the things he did to me, or turn ANY focus to what he'd done to me, thus turning me into a person I am STILL, to this day, trying to grow out of.