Ending My Toxic Relationship

I have had an interesting life to say the least.

I grew up in a loving home. My mom was the stereotypical housewife. I've never seen my dad do dishes or clean the toilet. He was the provider. Would I say that it was the perfect childhood? Hell no. But I'd say my parents raised one strong, intelligent woman. I was taught to never take shit from anyone. I have pride in my strong, loving, and feisty personality. So with this personality comes the inconceivable concept that I could end up in an abusive relationship.Fast forward to a night I'll never forget. I was a victim of a violent crime committed in my hometown. My friends and I were saying our goodbyes after a night out when a man opened fire on us all. One friend died, many were critically injured. I escaped along with another woman. This piece is important because it was the night I met him. He called me many times afterwards to make sure I was ok. To be honest, he was about the only one really asking. Because I wasn't shot, I was kind of forgotten in the whole process. So you can see how his attention felt genuine and warm.His constant attention felt loving. I had boyfriends in the past, but for some reason, I could never seem to keep their attention. The 'serious' ones lied and cheated, leaving me in pieces. I loved the calls from him and the frequent visits. It felt good. I felt like a person worthy of love, like I was his princess.The jealousy started early on, but I didn't see it because it was disguised in a blanket of love. The first memory I have was when he got angry with me wanting to stay out with a girlfriend we had ran into. He said he'd go back to the house and meet me there. I got there later and was locked out. I slept in my car that night, too embarrassed to call and ask for help. When I got into the house the next day, he told me that I was a slut and asked who I'd stayed with. He threatened to leave and it destroyed me. I begged him to stay.

The jealousy started early on, but I didn't see it because it was disguised in a blanket of love.

Begging him to stay became the common theme in my life. He'd get jealous and pissed off, pack up his things and I'd cry in the hallway begging him to stay. The words out of my mouth were a constant "Please stay. I promise I'll do anything to make this right."  And do anything I did.I became a shell of myself. I had no opinions. I wore baggy clothing to keep myself from attracting the attention of other men. I lied to my friends and family and convinced them he was perfect. I lived in constant fear of the next fight. I walked on egg shells.I endured emotional abuse for far too long. It turned physical only once but even then I didn't leave. We went to Missoula for fun with friends. I ran into my high school friend who I had been close with for years and had somehow lost touch. This friend was one of those you could sit and laugh with for hours — so we sat and laughed about old times. I had so much fun...until it was time to leave. But I wasn't ready to leave. So he left me once again. My friend gave me a ride back to the hotel. I couldn't get in. Locked out. I knocked for a long time until he opened the door. He returned to bed and I was relentless in asking why he left me. I picked up my cell phone and called my sister. I asked if she could come get me. He flew out of the bed and smashed my phone. I punched him in the chest and yelled, "Come on! What are you waiting for?!" That's when it happened. He threw me to the ground and began punching me in the back.There were many more incidents after this one, none physical — all emotional and psychological abuse. But here's how I got out: my friend who was my rock continually reminded me of my worth.  She stayed there through all the pain and reminded me of her presence. She gave me the tools I needed to make the choice myself. She helped me to find my beauty within and I began to feel like a worthy human being.

But here's how I got out: my friend who was my rock continually reminded me of my worth.   She stayed there through all the pain and reminded me of her presence.  She gave me the tools I needed to make the choice myself.

My boyfriend spent half the year out of state (yes, he even controlled me from miles away). The last time he left was the last time he left. With my friend's support and me realizing what I could have in life, I was able to leave. I called and told him that we were done. It wasn't easy — this time he was the one begging. I was lucky, eventually he stopped calling and I was able to begin healing.Ten years later, I'm in a healthy, happy home. Healing takes a lot of time. I'd say ten years later I'm still healing. My advice to other survivors is to get help after you leave. See a counselor, tell your story, push the shame aside. Heal and let those wounds get smaller — but don't expect them to go away completely. Only then can you find love in a healthy relationship.