There is always some part of yourself, some story you leave unsaid. It doesn’t seem to have a role in the overall plot. And then there are other things you just get used to holding, you’ve been at it so long. These are the carcinogens. Held in our mouths so long, we forget the taste, forget it is poison.
I find myself now facing the truth of my experience and no longer willing to remain silent about it for the sake of peace and appearances. I ask you to bear witness.
I was in a committed relationship with someone I deeply cared about. He was the person I hadn’t believed existed before I met him. He was charming and everyone who knew him thought so. He was weird, quirky, attentive, and saw the world in a refreshing way. For about a year he professed his deep, unending love for me. And I thought I had unexpectedly found true love. I didn’t know he could only be seen by strangers. His behavior could not withstand the extended gaze of an intimate relationship.
Soon the compliments shifted to undercutting remarks, “teasing,” and criticisms coupled with the bonus criticism of my increasing self-consciousness. That turned into manipulation, secrecy, lying, jealousy, and possessiveness. Verbal and emotional abuse. Infidelity, lies about lies, threats of leaving, and ignored questions. Gaslighting, name-calling, raging anger and violent threats finally fulfilled by physical abuse. I distanced myself from everyone but him. Thinking I was just being a compassionate partner, I financed our life together with a student loan. When he did finally get a job, I repeatedly had to ask for his help with bills. He required upmost privacy. I begged for his respect, communication, and forgiveness, believing by then what I was told – that our conflicts were my fault.
I was depressed, physically ill, suicidal, and filled with anxiety and shame. I felt trapped. Like in a dream where you need to scream but nothing comes out. I felt like I was losing myself. I loved this man with all my heart. He was the one I would go to for relief and solace, but his responses were narrowed to anger or dismissiveness.
No one knew. Maybe some had a clue. Eventually, I found my voice. Said I could do it no more. That was ten years ago. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and it saved my life. But it will no longer hold in my belly, in my throat.
I want to move closer to my authentic self. I’m seeing her more and more these days. People behaving badly gives permission to others to do the same. The same is true of people speaking their truth. It’s the objective of art. Getting us closer to seeing ourselves and, in that, one another.
Part of my healing means no longer protecting him from himself. He can carry his own burdens. I wish to meet the world in a more real way. It has taken a decade to realize I missed him despite the abuse. I was holding on to the part of him that everyone else sees. I only now recognize that in doing so, I was betraying the truth of my own pain. I was still looking for, and finding, him in others I would date.
I let go. And send my story to the special collection of invitations to do the same. We all have pain. And secrets. We must find ways to acknowledge, attend to, and release them. Otherwise, we just end up perpetuating the violence.
Why do I share this with you? Pity does not interest me. I want honesty. I want to be a vessel of love. I pour this poison out.
Love is expanse. If it feels like anything else, walk away.
cover art by me.
First Words from a Sea Bird 