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jlath · 4 years

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I Was the Girl Who Stayed in an Abusive Relationship: Here's What I Learned

Believe Me, Or Not

Three words. I remember only three words that were spoken the night of one of the worst arguments I’ve ever had with another person. Just three words. They were mine and I said them with tears in my eyes, slow and steady, even though I knew I was speaking to someone who wouldn’t process them or even hear me while trying to maintain the volume of his voice above the shakiness of my own. But I remember deciding that I would say the words anyways, just in case, by some miracle, he would stop screaming in my face and step away from me. I said:

“You’re scaring me.”

I remember wishing it was more extreme than it ended up being, because then I’d have a clear-cut, evident reason to walk away. Everyone would see a bruise on my face and wouldn’t dare to question me. I was only nineteen though and I was naïve, for I thought that being trapped in to my own bedroom and yanked by my wrists was not enough reason to walk away. But just because someone’s fist doesn’t meet your face doesn’t mean they haven’t or aren’t trying to physically hurt you.

I never thought of myself as weak. Growing up, I’d watch TV shows and movies and critique the women who got back with the men who were physical, enraged or emotionally abused them. I told myself, “I’ll never be that girl. I will be a stronger woman.” But what did I do? I told no one what had happened – the extremity and physicality of our fight – and I got back together with him a few weeks later.

The next six months of our relationship were a blur. We were together, dating, but both involved in new college organizations and had minimal time to do anything when we saw each other. I found amazing friends through the organization at my school that I was joining. Learning and growing through that process and being around beautiful and kind-hearted people opened my eyes to all the heartless ones in my life. In the time I spent without him, I thought about how much different of a person I was becoming, and he wasn’t around to see it because he was busy participating in an organization as well. It took me a while to realize that his not being around, however, was the reason I was so happy. For the first time in over a year, there was no one around manipulating my plans with friends, convincing me how to think, frowning at my outfits or telling me I was “crazy” and that I was “making stuff up,” “lying” and “imagining things,” something I learned later on is called gaslighting.

There was more than one reason as to why I left the relationship, but no matter the details of my decision, what happened after only proved to me I’d made the right choice. Texts begging me to talk or to see him, him showing up at my apartment uninvited, social media posts boasting my exclusion and even being followed back to my apartment after trying to drop off his belongings. There were stories being twisted and turned to make our mutual friends take sides but most importantly, the defining moment of the breakup was his assault and battery of one of our mutual friends, my best friend and now current boyfriend, who I had been with a month after I ended the relationship and his friendship with my ex had gone south.

Great timing? No. Clean break up? Hell no. It was ugly and it put every ounce of my strength to the test, even for months after. And that is why I am writing this. As many of you would hate to believe and are here to find out, I’m not writing this article out of vengeance or spite. No, I’m writing this for any other girls out there like me.

You can believe me, or not.

What I Learned

There’s been days where I’m afraid to be anywhere besides my bedroom. There’s been days where I suffer panic attacks at the thought of running into him around school. There are even more days where I miss the people who I once called friends who he turned against me, people I’d been close with since I stepped foot on the college campus and who didn’t even bother to hear my reasoning, my side of the story . But there are no days where I regret my decisions.

The first thing I’ve learned and that I will carry with me forever is that love shouldn’t make you think you’re crazy. It shouldn’t make you question the quality of your memory, blame yourself for an argument you didn’t start or doubt yourself to the point where you wonder if maybe the medications you’ve been on since age twelve to treat epilepsy have somehow given you memory problems...Love shouldn’t push you around or leave you standing alone in an empty apartment while all your friends are downstairs drinking with him. Love shouldn’t leave you feeling like you are worth absolutely nothing. Gaslighting is real and not enough people know about it. Even now that I am speaking out, the one criticism I have continued to receive is that I am “crazy.” But if telling my truth makes me crazy, call me crazy. This label may have stopped me before, but now it means nothing, especially coming from people I’ve never met or even seen in my life. I have confidence in my instincts and in my memory. I know my story. It’s mine to share. If you don’t want to hear it, may I ask: why are you still reading?

The second thing I learned is, like I’ve said, to speak your truth whether or not people believe you. Which is why I am writing this now. See, I never told anyone that I experienced a low-level of physicality during an argument in my relationship until I needed someone, anyone to believe me. That was a mistake because after almost six months of staying silent on the topic in order to protect his reputation, no one wanted to believe me when it came to explaining the reasoning behind my finally ending my relationship. Even if they did stick around to hear me out, they belittled me, condescended my fear and wrote me off. I walked away from a girl I called my close friend because she told me my fear was unjustified saying “bro, he would never physically hurt you.” She didn’t believe when I said that he already had.

I think there’s a power in staying silent. I chose silence for the months after our breakup to let the record show that in that time, I’d said nothing that I regretted. Silence can protect you, but you should never stay silent to protect someone who’s hurt you. This is the next thing I learned. At the time of the first breakup, I’d been so isolated in my relationship that I had no true friends, no support system to confide in or tell me that I was making the right decision to leave the relationship. I was only questioned by our mutual friends, which made me feel like my reason to walk away after an experience like that was invalid. After remaining in the relationship, it took time for me to realize that it was valid and that that experience had changed the essence of whatever we were doing. It was tainted. I would never be confident in saying that another serious fight wouldn’t result in another crossing of physical boundaries. I would never be confident in saying that it wouldn’t be worse, or escalate after the first time. Because, simply put, I would never know. But now that I have genuine friends, I’ve noticed that people who understand the thought process behind my keeping quiet about that experience are the ones who have stuck around.

The last thing I learned is something I’d like to write directly to girls like me. The ones who feel crazy, invalidated or afraid. The ones who are hopeless romantics, who seek true love that protects you the way it’s supposed to. To those girls: never ignore the red flags and never disregard your instincts. Over the course of my relationship, I saw them. Red flags, red goddamn strobe lights blinking in my face, and yet chose to ignore them. I was eighteen and I wanted so desperately to feel love, so I let myself fall. But halfway through my 20th year, I realized that your instincts are called instincts for a reason: to protect you. Always, always go with the gut feeling you keep telling yourself to push aside. More often than not, your gut feelings, your instincts are right. And they do and should validate whatever it is you feel: fear, anxiety. Anything.

In the end, what I continue to tell myself is that no one knows what happened the night of that horrible fight I had in my bedroom with my ex. No one knows the extent of it besides him and me. People will only know the versions of the stories we tell. And wow, people love to hear anything that will distract them from dealing with their own issues. People love to believe a wild story. A cheater acting promiscuous! A writer seeking revenge! They’ll either believe you or they won’t. Either way, protect yourself. Trust yourself. Validate yourself. Then move on and go find meaning and happiness. That’s all you can really do.

Believe me, or not.

j.lath

#write #writing #writings #article #relationships #poem excerpt #excerpts #excerpt #poetry #prose #nonfiction #journalism #abusive relationships #emotional abuse

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jlath · 8 years

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Eliana and the Weeping Willow: a short story

Eliana wiped the salty tears from her blurry eyes. Her long brown pigtails fell over her shoulders, dangling next to her petite purple backpack. She raced from the schoolyard, speed walking away from the taunting and the teasing that was her fifth grade year.

As she treaded down the heated sidewalk toward home, dainty Eliana pondered her dreadful day under the autumn sun. Oh that rude girl, Sadie! She made Eliana miserable, yanking her hair and humiliating her in front of her friends. Absolutely horrific.

Eliana jogged down the sidewalk and across the narrow bridge. She clutched her math workbook as cars whizzed by her. At the other side of the small bridge, Eliana suddenly tripped and tumbled to the concrete, her workbook sliding off into the nearby bushes.

She moaned in temporary pain, placing her dirty hands down to lift herself up. Sitting on her butt, she eyed her pale extremities. Thin streaks of neon blood patterned her palms, but the throbbing pain that resounded in her wrists didn’t hinder her. Eliana then crawled over to retrieve her workbook, stretching her hand beneath the bushes, fingering around in the fallen leaves for it. But she could not feel it.

That’s odd, Eliana thought.

She placed the side of her face to the concrete, gazing at the underside of the bushes with her left eye, her butt jutting into the air. There it was; she could see it! So Eliana stretched once more and finally she felt the smooth cover page touch her fingertips. She stretched and stretched and yanked at the book, but it wouldn't move. It was caught on a branch. Eliana groaned and leapt to her feet.

"What a perfect way to end the perfect day!" she snapped to herself as she marched to the other side of the bush. Eliana inched her away down the steep hill that the bushes were plopped on top of. The hill sloped down, down, down and was covered in dirt, surrounding the thin trees above her that looked as if they were planted at random. Eliana’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the steep hill; if she slipped even slightly she would tumble and hurt herself badly. But either way, she squatted near the back of the bush, her left foot below her, keeping her stable as she reached for her workbook. Finally she got it, and she stood up and observed the cover page triumphantly.

Eliana exhaled. "Got it," she tweeted.

But to her misfortune, her left foot slid out from under her. Eliana gave a high-pitched yelp and began to roll down the steep hill. She tumbled over and over and over again until she splatted flat on her side at the bottom. Moaning in pain, Eliana wobbled to her feet and swiped the leaves and dirt out of her pigtails and off of her navy blue T-shirt. Pain flooded the muscles in her shoulders and side, and she rubbed her hands in discomfort. Eliana looked up and around at exactly where she was, for it was darker than where she’d come from. All she could make out was a large bush wall and the hill directly behind her. Curious, indeed.

The wall extended all the way down to her left and all the way down to her right, running parallel with the road back up above her. Eliana squinted, for streaks of sunlight flickered through the cracks in the looming plants ahead of her. She took three cautious steps and stretched out her hand to slide through the wall. She slithered through, pushing leaves and branches away as to not hurt her face or eyes. Five steps later, she emerged from the skyscraping plants. Her eyes latched onto a wondrously, peaceful sight.

Eliana tiptoed out into the short grass of a gigantic field. The meadow was aflame in fading autumn green grass and lacked any sort of fencing. All Eliana saw was wide-open space: no cows, no barbed wire fences and most importantly, no people. The field was utterly empty, not a soul anywhere. Eliana was purely and completely alone, but she didn't mind, for she gazed at the beauty in amazement.

How wonderful is this? She thought to herself, her jaw ajar and her eyes as wide as Kentucky. Eliana absorbed it all, but paused, for she spotted something rather magnificent in the middle of the meadow: a giant, monstrous weeping willow, but Eliana was not fearful, no, for the tree was the most exuberating thing she had seen all day. And without a second to waste, Eliana took off toward the tree, leaping into the grass like an antelope. The grass tickled and flicked around her ankles but she ignored the itch.

Finally, she arrived at the willow tree and examined it from trunk to root. The trunk was several feet around with moss littering it and tiny black ants scampering up and down in the cracks of the bark. Leafy arms sprinkled down from the thick branches in hundreds and Eliana ran her fingers through the soft leaves. How extraordinary!

"A willow tree,” Eliana whispered.

Her little backpack slid down her arms and flopped into the bright green grass beneath her worn Converse sneakers. She journeyed to the trunk and laid a hand on the bark, its texture rough and bumpy with age. She gazed up at the sun shining through the tree’s thin and skimpy arms. Eliana removed her hands and spun around where she was, her head tilted up at the sky. The light swirled and danced around her as she spun, a joyful grin on her freckled face. But as Eliana spun, she began to notice something peculiar. The light was fading, getting darker with each new circle and before she knew it, Eliana was falling not back into the grass, no, but back into a strange daydream. Her joyful smirk turned into a scream for help. She was flying, swirling downward as the wind soared viciously through her fingers.

Before she knew it, the darkness had dissolved, and a terrified Eliana landed in a new location, somewhere different. Her world transformed around her and suddenly her scream was broken and she was sitting on a rock-hard bench in a cold and loud place. Eliana realized immediately where she was: a mall. And not just any mall, but Baker's Mall, only fifteen minutes from her house.

Though she knew the answer, she still inquired, “Where am I?” She was desperately hoping someone would answer her.

People rushed past her, carrying shopping bags. No one so much as looked at her. Something wasn't right. Not only did the mall not contain the new reconstruction that had been done last year, but everything she saw was in black-and-white. People wore a strange style; not the one that was in where Eliana went to school or at the high school down the street. So where exactly was Eliana?

She got to her feet and walked to where people scuttled by. A friendly but busy-looking man was approaching her, and Eliana jumped out at a break in the crowd.

“Excuse me?” No answer. The man kept walking towards her.

“Excuse me?” Still nothing. “Sir. Sir. Please stop! Hello?” The man was close now, heading straight toward Eliana and not halting.

“Sir! Sir! Sir!” Eliana leapt out of the way, but it didn't matter. He was going to hit her. But somehow, he didn't. The man seemed to pass right through Eliana, right through her left shoulder. She felt nothing at all.

Eliana watched the man continue on. She furrowed her eyebrows, growing anxious as she peered at the bustle around her. In her peripheral, Eliana noticed a box, a newspaper box. Quickly, she trotted over and knelt before it. Eliana placed a finger on the glass, skimming the newspaper with her golden eyes. She found the date in a matter of 18 seconds above the title Baker’s Chronicle. Eliana squinted at the tiny print, and the date read:

“October 5, 1992,” she said aloud. “I went back in time!”

Eliana stood up abruptly, extremely concerned now. She glanced around her.

“Hello! Can anyone see me?” she shouted frantically, racing over to the crowds. They did not turn to observe the weeping, little girl behind them, for they could not see her. “Hello! Can you hear me?” Eliana yelped again. She reached out a hand to touch a kind-looking lady’s shoulder but her finger slid through the figure. She could touch objects but not people, so how was she ever going to escape this grim nightmare?

“Please, somebody help me!” Eliana sobbed, blurry tears filling her eyes.

What do I do? Eliana's thoughts shrieked, her hands grabbing her face as she cried hopelessly. This is a nightmare! Am I dreaming? She wondered.

Eliana jogged into a nearby store and gazed into a mirror. Her body did not appear in the reflection in front of her. There was no image, nothing at all.

“I'm invisible,” Eliana whispered.

In all the books she ever read in her lifetime, none were focused on a time-traveling preteen. How on earth was this possible?

Eliana turned away from the mirror and realized she was in a high-end jewelry store. It had gold and silver bracelets and rings with diamond studs. She peered at them, comforted by their beauty.

Looking up, Eliana's eyes latched onto the one other person in the store: a man dressed in leather jacket and pants. Eliana felt as if she'd seen him somewhere…his physique was utterly familiar…but where has she seen him? It was only when the man pulled a black facemask over his head that Eliana remembered where she’d seen him: this was the Blackout Burglar, a robber who committed crimes by shutting out the power and escaping with a rich treasure, and Eliana was alone with him in a pretty jewelry store.

“Oh no,” Eliana muttered. She felt frozen in place. Suddenly, the lights went out and everything turned pitch black. Eliana gave a yelp and watched the shadow of the man snatch something from the wall. Glass shattered, alarms screeched and people screamed bloody murder in the aisle ways outside.

Without hesitation, Eliana bolted after the man who ripped and shoved through shouting people and crying children. Eliana followed suit, carefully dodging figures, though she didn’t truly need to. Every now and then, her shoulder or foot swung through people’s bodies mystically, reminding her that she was, in fact, invisible.

Behind Eliana, the security guards tore through the parted crowd yelling, “Stop! Stop that man!”

Eliana's heart pounded, her breathing was short and abrupt as she stalked the man. She chased him for two more minutes until they reached the end of the mall.

He'll take the shortcut out the back, no doubt! Eliana thought to herself.

Panting, she skidded to a halt and watched the burglar unexpectedly go, not out the shortcut to the dumpsters that she thought he would, but out the back up toward the neighboring freeway.

Eliana squinted then ducked out a different door to the dumpsters.

We’ll cross paths! She thought. We’ll have to!

Eliana snuck out to where the trucks loaded off clothing and items to restock the mall. Invisibly, she dashed to the corner and hid behind the dumpsters to wait. To her left was the end of the building, and around the corner was the door that the Blackout Burglar would escape from in order to get to the freeway, which she supposed he was trying to reach. She huffed, glancing around the corner in the skinny alleyway.

“Any second now,” Eliana whispered to herself, peeking around. She leaned back against the tough wall. “I've got to do something.” She examined her surroundings. Cardboard boxes were littered around her, but they were useless. She couldn’t catch a thief with a box!

But before Eliana could check inside the dumpsters to arm herself, a bang came from around the corner. A few moments later, the screeching security guards burst out after him. Police sirens erupted in the air like auditory volcanoes.

Eliana stepped out.

Too late, Eliana thought. The burglar sprinted her way and Eliana was defenseless. I’ve got to do something, she thought again, but he was getting closer. Anything! Her mind screamed.

He was almost to her.

Move, Eliana! She told herself. He was several strides away when Eliana skirted out of the way and snatched a cardboard box. Standing two feet away, she tossed the box out under his feet, and to her utter astonishment, the Blackout Burglar tripped and fell, crashing to the ground.

Eliana gasped as police cars sped up and halted in front of her. The security guards grabbed onto the man, latching handcuffs around his wrists.

He was caught! The infamous Blackout Burglar was caught!

Crowds gathered around the scene as the police shoved the robber into the police car. And people cheered, for the culprit who had stolen numerous items over the last three years from malls and stores all over was captured! Many had talked of him; he was a cruel legend, and now he was caught, and Eliana had done the job!

“How did it happen?” someone wondered.

“He tripped over the box!” retorted someone else.

“It came out of absolute nowhere!” the security guard gaped.

The crowds chatted and cheered. “The Blackout Burglar is caught!” they chanted.

Eliana grinned invisibly, thinking to herself, You caught the Blackout Burglar! You did!

Then, as crowds wandered back inside and dispersed and interviewers and news reporters flooded the mall, Eliana spotted a shiny item under the dumpster. It was the item he'd stolen from the store.

As the last people at the scene left, Eliana reached under the dumpsters with her pale arms. She was so close to touching the mysterious object. But it didn't matter, for the dumpsters had begun to disappear. Everything blended together and spun and twisted and twirled just as it had before, and Eliana began to scream. She fell to and from absolute nowhere.

KaBOOM!

Eliana gasped and found herself sitting erect in the short grass, the sun blinding her golden eyes. Colors filled in around her, as if her world was a canvas and someone was making a watercolor painting. She squinted around, the weeping willow branches fluttering gracefully above her.

When she calmed down, she breathed a sigh of relief. Eliana reverted her eyes to her backpack pocket, for something glimmered inside. She crawled over and unzipped the zipper. To her astonishment, a gorgeous diamond gem shimmered inside. Eliana lifted it and held it carefully in her palms, realizing exactly what it was: it was it was the gem stolen by the Blackout Burglar from her dream!

Eliana grinned at the delightful magic. Soon, she discovered that deeper in the zipper pocket was a small article from an old newspaper that read,

“Infamous Blackout Burglar Caught After Tripping Over Cardboard Boxes,” Eliana said out loud. Then she smirked, for she had been the reason that the culprit was captured, and she felt proud and victorious. “I did that,” Eliana said, and she sighed and fell back into the grass, gazing up at the magical weeping willow whose leaves swayed wisely in the autumn breeze.

j.lath

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