You Only Abused Me Because Of Your Own Insecurities

Hearing the glass shatter is a sound that will never stop replaying in my head. The feeling of your grip so tight around my arm is a feeling I will never be able to get off my skin. “Bitch,” “worthless,” “ungrateful,” and “whore” are all words that will sit in the back of my mind every time I look in the mirror.

I tried to scrub the feeling of your hands on me off my body so many times. I would scrub until my skin was completely raw and the pain was too much to handle. Stand there screaming and crying until I couldn’t feel anything at all.

I tried to get your voice out of my head, the sounds of you calling me every nasty name you could think of. Repeatedly telling me just how worthless I was to you. But drowning your voice out always seemed to start with loud music so loud I couldn’t think and end with me at the bottom of a Jack Daniel’s bottle when I realized nothing in the world could get your voice out of my head.

I tried to fix or replace everything you broke, but those things will never be the same. In the back of my mind, I would always know what happened and why things were different, then break down at the sight of those items knowing they would never be the same—I would never be the same.

I tried escaping the reality of what my life had become because of you. If for even an hour I could get you out of my head, it was worth it. I did so many things I said I never would just to keep my sanity. Just so I would want to stay alive.

I always seemed to think that I was strong enough to take it. I reminded myself over a million times that anything you’d say would have no meaning unless I let it have meaning. I would lie in bed with tears in my eyes trying to convince myself that the bruises will heal eventually. You had complete control over me; my mind and body were at your full disposal. Any action you took, I reassured myself it would never happen again, and everything would be okay. I hated you so much most days, but never did I blame you for your own actions. Instead, I hated myself a little more every day and talked my way around every situation putting the blame on anyone and anything, just to avoid the truth.

I look back now on those days when I felt so hopeless, hurt, devastated, and worthless. Somewhere in between all the painful memories, I finally got a little clarity. I was never the problem, you were. Your every action described your character, not mine. That may seem like common sense to most, but it was the epiphany of a lifetime for me. You didn’t treat me like trash because I was. You treated me like trash because deep down that was the kind of person you were at that point in life.

It’s easy to say I should’ve walked away the first time you laid a hand on me, but it is a lot easier said than done. You were like a drug that I just couldn’t get enough of, addictive and intoxicating. The worse you made me feel about myself, the more reliant I was on you to stay in my life. The first time you laid a hand on me, it was already too late. I was already too reliant on keeping you in my life because I felt worthless. The words you’d say and the way you treated me made me hate myself in every way. I needed you to love me; I spent every day seeking your approval and attention.

I should have loved myself enough to see that you were wrong. I should have loved myself enough to stand up and demand that you treated me better and showed me that I was loved instead of bashing on me. I should have set boundaries from the beginning and left the second you crossed that boundary line.

I was someone completely different before I met you, but you broke down the person I was. Shattering everything I built myself up to be. All the years I tried to trust people went out the window in just a couple days. All the years I worked so hard to find what makes me happy, I lost that when you forced all my attention to be only on you. All the years I taught myself how to love again, you shattered my heart into so many pieces that I don’t know if I can rebuild it. By the end of the relationship, I didn’t even recognize myself. I would’ve done just about anything to escape the reality my life had become at that point. I would have rather died than stayed alive and fought to find myself again.

But here I am, still building up what you broke. Things are different now—I’m starting to find joy in the little things each day. Most days I’m actually excited to wake up the next morning. I am trying my hardest to learn how to trust again. Opening my mind to the fact that maybe I do deserve an amazing love story like everyone around me seems to have. I am working on being the best version of myself and loving every aspect of the person I am and who I’m becoming.

I never thought I would say this, but I forgive you. I hope you’ve changed although I won’t stick around to find out. I deserve so many apologies, but I am not waiting around to hear them anymore. I now know you only treated me that way because of the person you were. So instead of sitting around missing you and hating myself, I choose to spend each day finding the best version of me and rebuilding what you broke.