Raw

What it feels like to be in two emotionally abusive relationships.

People said I was a “late bloomer.” That it was smart I was, “Waiting for the right guy” (I was’t) or that if I did my hair the right way, like my father told me, “He would show up.” When I was 21, I had my first relationship. My first kiss, my first sexual experience, the first person I introduced to my parents. He was smart, a little nerdy, insecure, and lost in his own trauma of self harm and self hate.

I only had one real conversation with him in our six month coupling. The others times I was crying, he was crying, or we were fucking. It’s a sad thing to expose yourself sexually to someone that treats you like a blow-up doll.

As the months went on, I got smaller and smaller to fit into his ideal image. He even told me that he “Drank a lot of liquids so that he wouldn’t eat as much.” I worked out twice a day and drank smoothies for dinner.

When he visited me at home for my birthday he ignored all of my friends and family at the party. That night he sat in bed and said, “I wish I could have seen you more.” The next 24 hours were one of the worst of my life. He sobbed and asked me not to be mad at him. He stared at me, asking if I was breaking up with him, as I considered his history with self-harm. It wasn’t until I got a haircut that my hairstylist pointed out that the relationship sounded toxic. It was.

I broke up with him over the phone, and guilted myself for a year afterward for doing so. I felt like a heartless monster, as I ironically escaped the grasp of something truly abusive. The guilt and self-loathing that followed took me to the school nurse, an endocrinologist, and the ER. There was physically nothing “wrong,” but my body and mind had shut down due to extreme stress. I’m still not over it.

Cut to five years later. I had come out as a lesbian, moved to the Bay, and had many dalliances, make-outs, and blissful staring contests. And I then I met Morgan. She was short, with long blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes. She liked something I wrote on Twitter and we started talking. She was smart, sexy, dominant, and manipulative. Like Him, a huge part of our relationship was physical. The sexual chemistry I had with her was like nothing else. And it gave me the opportunity to immerse myself in kink with someone I trust.

But the writing was on the wall. Morgan would make playlists for me but not explain them. Sometimes she would even put just emojis as the title, and “gift” the string of songs to me. Some of the songs were cruel and harsh, while others were loving and thoughtful. I never knew which one she meant.

Similarly, I never knew which Morgan I was getting. One minute she would be telling me how beautiful, how special I was, the next she would stand me up at our favorite restaurant. I felt pushed and pulled. But I still wanted her. I craved her. When she stood me up for the third time, I ended it. The thing that helped me? My therapist, and an astrology podcast that said it was, “Time to go,” if you were in a toxic relationship.

A recent phone call with a close friend, who knows about both relationships, made me feel worse. She said it was “Disturbing,” that I was “seeking out” these relationships, and asked why I had stayed in them for so long. No one seeks out to be abused, and thank God I came to my conclusions when I did. So many womxn are still trapped. So many womxn don’t have a therapist to tell them to get out. Or even if they do, it can be emotionally and financially difficult. I’m glad I walked away, and I want you to know, you can too.