For almost my entire high school career, I was dating the same boy. He was a senior, I was a freshman, and it was your typical high school love story. It took me four years to realize how toxic it was to my life, my heart, and my spirit. A toxic relationship is described as a relationship that is emotionally or physically damaging to one or more of the partners. Even though when I looked at him, I didn't see someone who wanted to damage me, he transformed me from an innocent fourteen year old girl with high hopes for love and endless dreams into an eighteen year old who was skeptical of love in general. I didn't even believe love existed. I was made to believe that behind all of the cute Instagram posts, and each goodnight text message, there was lies, cheating, deceit, and hatred. And there were points where I really really felt that hatred.
Maybe deep down, he didn't want to hurt me. But he did. And I thank him for that now. Because it made me who I am. Almost six years later, I don't feel any hate. Instead, I hope he is doing well. I hope that he is living a life he is proud of. And I'm more than okay with the fact that I'm no longer involved in it. I'm thankful I had that experience in my life. I'm thankful that I was treated like shit. Because not only did it make me the person I am, it made me realize my worth.
A lot of love that I have seen, and most of the couples I grew up watching, had flaws. Realistically, every relationship will. That thought process made me normalize the flaws in my own relationship. I figured "everyone has problems and these are mine." Now, I realize that it wasn't my problem. It was his.
It wasn’t until I met him that I learned my parents should have spent less time warning me about drugs like cocaine and heroin and more time warning me about drugs that were brown-eyed boys who told you that you were beautiful at six in the morning. My parents didn’t tell me that the way my name rolled off his tongue would sound like the most beautiful symphony until he didn’t follow it with “I love you” anymore. My parents didn't warn me about all of the excuses I would hear. I swear to God, I didn't know so many of them existed.
His heart was too broken to love me. The perfect nights spent inside turned into worrying about what the other person was doing when they were away from you. We used anything as a way to avoid talking to one another about the real issues we were facing. The heart-warming compliments turned into accusations and condescending comments. All the things I loved so much were gone as if they were only here for a moment. He stopped listening. He stopped laughing at my jokes. The interests and opinions I shared with him began being called stupid and unimportant. When he began to distance himself, I only clung to him more tightly.
His only line of defense was that he never hit me. He cheated on me with countless amounts of people, and made me feel like the crazy one. But he never hit me. He'd humiliate me and insult me and make me feel like garbage, but he never hit me. He let me lay in bed with knots in my stomach worrying about where he was, but he never hit me. I was called every name in the book, but he never hit me. He'd scream at me and then ignore me and hang me out to dry, but he never hit me.
Instead of going home when I should have, I'd lay there with him. Facing opposite ways, waiting for him to eventually turn over and apologize. Sometimes it happened, sometimes I waited all night until the light started to peek in through the blinds and I finally fell asleep.
I stopped wearing makeup. I stopped wearing leggings. I stopped seeing my friends. I stopped doing anything that would provoke an argument or upset him. He turned me into someone I didn't recognize. I told myself I'd never shrink myself down for a boy, and here I was.
I spent countless nights crying in my bed. Alone. Not knowing where he was, what he was doing, or who he was with. Being left with unanswered text messages that followed accusations and insults. Every once in a while, I found myself in my mothers arms while I sobbed into her chest. She didn't let go even when her shirt was soaked in tears. That is what love is.
I walked into my house so many times after a fight, clearly upset, and my father would be sitting on the couch watching his daughter lose her mind and senses over a boy. He'd come into my room, sit on my bed, ask if I was okay, and sit with me in comfortable silence because I didn't want to talk about it. That is what love is.
My friends didn't judge me every time I took him back, but they were still there for me whenever it got rough. Even though I basically cut them off for long periods of time because I couldn't hangout with them without starting a fight, when I finally realized they were more important, they welcomed me back in with open arms. They never failed to make me laugh despite how upset I was. That is what love is.
I justified his actions for far too long. Eventually, I stopped telling anyone my business altogether. I didn't want to be looked at like I was pathetic, even though I was.
I stayed for four years. I listened to four years worth of “I’m sorry” before I realized I was worth more. I stood idly by as he betrayed me again and again until I realized I cannot force someone to change. After the period of time that I spent hoping things would become better, I realized that life is short; too short to spend with someone who makes you feel small.
I've been in a relationship now for a little over a year, and for a while I didn't know how to act. I was so used to being the weak one. My outlook on love was still so flawed and so broken. I made a promise to myself that I'd never be in the same position I was in before. I'd never be walked all over. I'd never let someone hurt me like I was hurt.
What I didn't expect, was for this relationship to be so different. I didn't expect for him to be so good. I didn't expect someone so pure to enter my life because I think in the back of my mind, I still believed I didn't deserve it. But I do.
After all these years, I'm still trying to fix myself. I'm still trying to learn how to open my heart after I locked it shut. I'm still trying to learn how to love someone again. Fully, without doubt, without restraint, and with everything I have. I'm building myself back from the ground up.
I used to think that I regretted those four years that I spent with him. A part of me still does because of all the time wasted. Time I could've spent with my friends in high school. Time I could've spent with my parents. Even time I could've spent petting my dog. He didn't deserve all the time that I gave him.
But thanks to him, I am so much stronger. I know that I was worth more than he ever gave me. I know the difference between having butterflies in your stomach, and wasps. There are happy tears, and there are sad ones. And I know better than to use the latter. I know to make all the memories that you can with all of the people that you care about.
So thank you for treating me like shit, because you've given me the lesson of a lifetime, a one hell of a story.
