For so long I imagined no other life than the depression that I had only known. I would picture myself unhappy and the future was blight. I felt no connection to my life or my face; I liked nothing about myself. He tore me down. (He being, let's call him Steph) Steph took away my hopes and dreams. Anyone who has every been in the nadir of depression's grasp knows the way you lose your future. Dreams disappear; nightmares are real; paranoia controls you. He'd hurt me and I'd cried. Steph would leave when anything was brought up concerning his wrongdoings towards me.

Moving On

Moving on from any tragic event, but also a boy, even an abusive boy such as Steph, will take time and will always be a roller coaster ride; it'll never just be a straight slide into normality. There will be good days, and there will be bad days. Unfortunately, to be blunt, the pain will never completely go away; there will always be triggers that remind you of the pain that you went through. You'll still cry every once in a while. Lemme tell you, that's normal; in fact, it's good for you. Holding in feelings creates a situation in which they will definitely explode when it comes to maximum storage. Let them out; let yourself cry; you'll feel better and more connected to yourself.

I started incredibly slow. Breaking out of Stockholm Syndrome from Steph was incredibly hard for me. I had lost my entire sense of self; I had no idea who I was, absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Steph had scared me so much, I was terrified of ever coming back to New York. I applied for a transfer to so many other universities; I came up with a crazy idea to move to Berlin, possible only by my dual citizenship, and settle down in Berlin for good. This was mildly insane, looking back. I started small. When I had to cry, I'd take a shower, wash the salt out of my eyes as I cried, let my body breathe and feel clean. This, of course, wasn't a great conservation of water, and I am truly a supporter of restoring the environment to it's prime, but for a short period of time, it was okay.

Eventually, I cried a little less. It went from falling apart ten to fifteen times a day to only about five to ten times a day. This is still quite a bit of time that I spent falling apart, crying, and being angry all the time. I changed from hot showers to runs. I would walk with my headphones in and every time I had a thought that made me want to cry, I had to sprint until I remembered something good about myself and my life. This really worked for me; the anger I had deeply buried in my stemmed from the was Steph had treated me with abusive disrespect--it fueled my runs and gave me energy; I felt like I could fly when I sprinted. My legs barely touched the ground. This helped me for two weeks. But the problem was, when I wasn't running, I was still sitting around with a giant sinking feeling in my entire body and a painful feeling in my heart and a heavy weight on my chest. I felt like I'd never be happy again.

Reading this, you may be like, "Okay, so this is her story, but how does this help me?"

It's entirely valid to ask that question. I can only share my own experience on how I was able to move on, and yet explain that I am still fighting the battle every day. From my story, I hope for you to realize that pain never lasts forever. It will ALWAYS get better eventually. Find a flower of hope and hold it inside your heart. Never let your hope go; hope and strength will be the only things helping you get through. If necessary, confront the one who made your heart shatter and your mind fall numb; tell them everything you wish you had said. Trust me, it's hard as hell! But, it's totally worth it. I would never have been able to move on without writing my previous article, which while harsh, actually only touched the tip of the iceberg of the abuse that I suffered through from Steph for two entire years. You don't need to tell everyone everything, and especially not the entire internet, but find someone you trust, someone who will always listen to you on your bad days. After all, said by the one and only Marilyn Monroe, "I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, than you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

One day, somehow, the sun will shine again in your heart; you'll step outside and see the trees as if you are seeing for the first time. In my experience, I remember telling everyone how beautiful everything was when I finally had released enough pain from my Stockholm Syndrome. The trees were so tall, so green. The sun was so beautiful when it set and when it rose. The water had this amazing sound. It goes on and on.

You don't know me. I'm nobody to you. BUT, the only person I can be to you is the girl who promises you that it will always get better; you'll move on; you'll find someone new, or new friends, and you'll begin to recognize the face in the mirror again.

I am so glad that I didn't switch schools and run in fear. The most important thing that I can stress is not to make decisions when in pain. Impulse is at its prime in times of complete distress and chaos. The brain is only thinking of how to run away from the pain and find something new to focus on. I look back, and I am glad that I stayed; no, New York is really not one of my favorite places at all. However, it's given me wisdom and intelligence that has structured me and transitioned me from a girl to a woman. The ride was awful, painful, not easy for short, but the end, the end is wisdom beyond anything you'd imagined you could compile in only a few years.

Two things:

1. Always stand up for yourself and hold onto hope for your future, no matter how bad it seems.

2. Never regret; remind yourself how much you have learned, what you can do now that you couldn't before, and your newfound ability to help others in similar situations.

It will get better; you will move on.

I promise.