I was 22 years old when I moved to Montana and found Christopher.

He was the typical Montana ski bum: cool, confident, laid back. His motto in life was “I will always tell you the truth even if it hurts,” so naturally, he earned my trust rather quickly. The fact that I trusted him wholeheartedly, made it nearly impossible for me to believe that he was abusing me. I spent countless hours trying to “fix” myself, as if my behavior was the cause to all his bursts of anger, the cocaine abuse, his abuse of my health, the financial abuse, and, eventually, his decision to hit me.My story of abuse deals with mental, emotional, sexual, and physical abuse, and every time I try to hit the keys on my laptop to begin telling my tale, I can’t convey the right words. I feel like I need to validate my experiences, which is completely normal for anyone who has gone through abuse. You spend your time convincing yourself and your friends that “oh, he didn’t mean it that way,” or “I slipped and got this black eye. I’m so clumsy!”While my story is no longer hidden, the abuse continues to linger. It’s a persistent reminder of how I didn’t leave soon enough or how I didn’t reach out to any of my friends for help.

I’ll be driving to work, and all of a sudden, every detail of my drive reminds me of him and throws me into an unnerving fit of anxiety that makes me shake and cry until I know I have to hold my head up high, walk into work, and pretend like everything was just A-OK.

So when I attempt to tell you my story, please bear with me if it feels too thought-out, too insincere, or too sporadic. It only seems too thought-out, because I know this piece is important for my healing process. It only seems too insincere, because I still cannot fathom that all this was a part of my life. And, it only seems too sporadic because my thoughts on my abuse and my abuser are confusing and random. I’ll be driving to work, and all of a sudden, every detail of my drive reminds me of him and throws me into an unnerving fit of anxiety that makes me shake and cry until I know I have to hold my head up high, walk into work, and pretend like everything was just A-OK.Right after my messy breakup, I remember sitting on my therapist’s couch asking her why I always felt at fault for his abuse toward me.“So you think you did something wrong by staying?” I shook my head yes. “No,” she said. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. All you did was fall in love, and love is a beautiful thing.”Tears rolled down my cheeks. Even though I still feel guilt and shame for staying in my abusive relationship with Christopher, in that moment, those two feelings went away. I felt at peace. I gave Christopher the benefit of the doubt, because that’s what you do in love. He took advantage of my love.I need HER, because it’s important to know that in an abusive relationship, you are not at fault. My therapist has done wonders for helping me cope, but, now, it’s my turn to share her wisdom, because love is a beautiful thing, and I want to one day believe in love again.