By Janiece Jackson
Arts & Entertainment Editor
As a child I could have never imagined a point in my life in which I’d consider different ways to end my existence; that was until I handed control of my life to another. From that moment on, I lived a life of fear, instability, hurt, and depression.
Prior to my life altering relationship, I lived, loved and laughed more than your average youth. I enjoyed every aspect of life and appreciated every single being that I crossed paths with. Bending over backwards and over-extending myself was never an issue, seeing as I loved being the one that people could call on when they needed support.
Aside from always wanting to be there for everyone, everyone loved having me around. Individuals weren’t acquaintances for too long; I made them friends right away.
When I look back at that now, I wonder if that may have been the reason why I ended up in such an abusive relationship.
We were best friends. He was someone I could trust. We shopped, ate, watched movies together, and shared mutual friends.
“Why wouldn’t we work out,” I thought. He was the male version of me. “It would just be too weird.”
For a while I fought the fact that he liked me, and tried to convince him that we’d be much better off as friends. But he found a way to convince me that no one could ever love me as much as he did, a love that I now realize was just a dangerous infatuation.
Much to my surprise, that façade of perfection faded quite rapidly. The man that I once trusted, became the man that I was too scared too walk away from.
“Ok great, I’ll see you in a bit?” I answered Tara, as I agreed to meet her at the mall.
“Who was that?” he asked as though he didn’t already know.
“Tara,” I replied.
“You’re not going anywhere with her,” he affirmed, in a voice that made every hair on my body stand up straight.
“Whatever, I’m going, she just wants me to help her pick out some sneakers.” At this point I knew I had to find away to get him out of my car so that I could drive away with out a fight.
“Give me your phone,” he said, a demand that would soon be followed by a threat, if I didn’t just hand it right over. “Try calling her now,” he said as he ripped the phone out of my hand and tore it in two with ease.
“Events” like these were ever occurring in our relationship. It’s what I was used to with him; I deemed it normal.
My fear went beyond that of bodily harm: it was something much more intense. I was scared to be alone. He swayed me to believe that my life meant nothing, and that I could accomplish nothing of significance if he wasn’t in my life.
I lost more than just my close friends, freedom, and a job: I lost myself.
I had the lowest level of self-esteem imaginable. I hated me, I hated my life, and I did not want to live anymore. I felt like I had nowhere to turn.
“Why would anyone want to help me? Why would anyone want to be there for me? I didn’t even want to be there for myself.”
He turned his back on me daily. It seemed like he spent time trying to find different ways to play with my emotions. It was like a roller coaster of mistreatment. It went from little loop-the-loops to intense heart-wrenching drops of emotional pain.
This was all up until I realized that I wasn’t the piece of garbage that he forced me to believe I was.
“Who is this person that I have become? Why am I allowing this to take place? I’m not healthy and I’m certainly not happy. This has got to stop!”
Ironically enough, during one of our break-ups (he would break up with me very often to teach me “a lesson” of some sort) I was smacked with an epiphany… literally.
I will never forget the last day that we saw each other face to face. It was the first time that I was able to stand up and say, “I can’t take this anymore.” But he didn’t let me go without a fight.
It was the worst fight of them all; the only difference is that for the first time ever I had the “balls” to hit him back.
This brawl was forerun by a two week period of pampering. Flowers pinned on my windshield, new outfits with shoes to match, nice dinners, and even a day at the spa, was the treatment I was receiving as my nightmare approached its end.
But there was something different about him; something very sneaky was going on. And just as I suspected, my charm-lacking prince had been courting another young lady (let me not fail to mention that she was a friend of mine).
Any other girl would have had a fit, but I, on the other hand, felt this sudden sense of freedom. I knew at this point that I had no reason to stay.
He agreed to meet with me for lunch, where I took the opportunity to confront him. Just as I anticipated, he grew very angry with me, as though I were in the wrong for finding out about his lies.
As I walked away he followed tugging at me from every angle. I don’t know what came over me, but I was suddenly filled with the courage to push back. That, of course, led to what looked like a boxing match, and although the hits hurt, it felt so good to finally say “I’m done.”
That final scene in our lives together, along with a recap of everything that I allowed myself to be put through, made for a most successful separation.
I did in a sense lose my life, but I lost the life that I grew to hate, the life that I did not want to live.
It was a symbolic death, directly preceded by a new life; a life that I am now so proud to live.
Through my experience I have become a wiser student, a more productive worker, and I feel as though I have managed to become the young woman that God wants me to be.
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