This weekend I did one of the hardest things I've done in a while. I talked to my ex, my abuser, the boy who stole three years of my life.
For a while, my therapist has been telling me that the only way to truly get closure from everything that's happened is to confront him. I didn't really believe her, saying that I had moved past it and was ready to continue with my life. For a month or two, I insisted I was fine, changing the subject every time we started talking about him. On Friday, my best friend M really woke me, as usual, to the contradictions of my preaching. I tell everyone to stand up for themselves, be strong, be honest, to firmly leave the past in the past. Yet I hadn't followed my own advice. I was terrified at just the thought of opposing E, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why shouldn't I finally stand up to him? I realized I had a lot to say to him, so many pent up emotions, yet it was all bottled inside. That was really the straw that broke the camel's back. He had confined my emotions for so many years already, and I wasn't about to let him do it again.
I went to talk to him, stopping by his house twice, but he wasn't home. I finally reached him on Saturday afternoon. I asked him if we could speak privately, as his mother was in the room. Everything I wanted to say swam around in my mind, but the second I sat down it all disappeared. My mind went blank, and I didn't know where to begin. For about ten or fifteen seconds I sat there, taking deep breaths, and he watched me in silence.
"I cannot even tell you how many times I have wanted to say this, but didn't for other peoples' sakes." I said it moments after realizing how accurate it was. I had never wanted to hurt my parents, or his, and I had even protected him a few times. But no matter how much I want to help others, sometimes I just have to do what's right for me, regardless of who else it will affect. There were a few more moments of silence, before I started speaking. Truth be told, I can't even remember some of the things I said. Whatever came to mind, whatever I felt was true, that is what I voiced. I told him he ruined my life. That he had really messed me up, and led me to some of the hardest things I've ever had to go through. I didn't say anything to make him feel bad, I simply stated the truth.
The only thing he said during my time there was, "I know I fucked you up, and it haunts me every day of my life."
I wanted to object. No, he doesn't know what he's done to me. How far he pushed me, how close I came to ending my life. He has no idea what I've gone through because of him; depression and suicidal thoughts, self harm and eating disorders.
Instead I said nothing. I said maybe a quarter of what I had planned, of what I felt. But at the end of it all, I said, "I'm done. I'm done letting you control my life, I'm done doing things or going places because you are or aren't going there. I'm done making small talk with you, I'm done avoiding you, I'm done with you. I need to leave the past in the past and this is my way of doing it." And I walked out. I expected to feel much lighter on my way out, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn't. In fact, my chest felt quite heavy, my head swimming.
It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I didn't cry, or have a panic attack, although I came pretty close. The whole time I was in the same room with him, I was shaking, all my concentration focused on keeping my body still. Hours later, I started breathing normally again. I took pride in what I did, how I accomplished what had to be done. How easy it was, once I did it.
One of my favorite quotes was written by John Green: "It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world."
I think this is a perfect sentence to describe abusive relationships. There isn't much to say about it. It is self explanatory, and one of the truest things I've seen.
For a while, my therapist has been telling me that the only way to truly get closure from everything that's happened is to confront him. I didn't really believe her, saying that I had moved past it and was ready to continue with my life. For a month or two, I insisted I was fine, changing the subject every time we started talking about him. On Friday, my best friend M really woke me, as usual, to the contradictions of my preaching. I tell everyone to stand up for themselves, be strong, be honest, to firmly leave the past in the past. Yet I hadn't followed my own advice. I was terrified at just the thought of opposing E, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why shouldn't I finally stand up to him? I realized I had a lot to say to him, so many pent up emotions, yet it was all bottled inside. That was really the straw that broke the camel's back. He had confined my emotions for so many years already, and I wasn't about to let him do it again.
I went to talk to him, stopping by his house twice, but he wasn't home. I finally reached him on Saturday afternoon. I asked him if we could speak privately, as his mother was in the room. Everything I wanted to say swam around in my mind, but the second I sat down it all disappeared. My mind went blank, and I didn't know where to begin. For about ten or fifteen seconds I sat there, taking deep breaths, and he watched me in silence.
"I cannot even tell you how many times I have wanted to say this, but didn't for other peoples' sakes." I said it moments after realizing how accurate it was. I had never wanted to hurt my parents, or his, and I had even protected him a few times. But no matter how much I want to help others, sometimes I just have to do what's right for me, regardless of who else it will affect. There were a few more moments of silence, before I started speaking. Truth be told, I can't even remember some of the things I said. Whatever came to mind, whatever I felt was true, that is what I voiced. I told him he ruined my life. That he had really messed me up, and led me to some of the hardest things I've ever had to go through. I didn't say anything to make him feel bad, I simply stated the truth.
The only thing he said during my time there was, "I know I fucked you up, and it haunts me every day of my life."
I wanted to object. No, he doesn't know what he's done to me. How far he pushed me, how close I came to ending my life. He has no idea what I've gone through because of him; depression and suicidal thoughts, self harm and eating disorders.
Instead I said nothing. I said maybe a quarter of what I had planned, of what I felt. But at the end of it all, I said, "I'm done. I'm done letting you control my life, I'm done doing things or going places because you are or aren't going there. I'm done making small talk with you, I'm done avoiding you, I'm done with you. I need to leave the past in the past and this is my way of doing it." And I walked out. I expected to feel much lighter on my way out, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn't. In fact, my chest felt quite heavy, my head swimming.
It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I didn't cry, or have a panic attack, although I came pretty close. The whole time I was in the same room with him, I was shaking, all my concentration focused on keeping my body still. Hours later, I started breathing normally again. I took pride in what I did, how I accomplished what had to be done. How easy it was, once I did it.
One of my favorite quotes was written by John Green: "It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world."
I think this is a perfect sentence to describe abusive relationships. There isn't much to say about it. It is self explanatory, and one of the truest things I've seen.