Writing has always been my form of healing. But, sharing that with the world isn’t easy. There’s really only one person I ever talk about this with, and seeing how I’m marrying that person, it’s kind of needed.
Last year, I met a guy who told me he’d change my life, but little did I know the way he’d change it wasn’t anything like what I expected. You may refer back to “Speaking Out- I forgive you” if you want a little recap. Anyways-
That last post was the first time I ever opened up about it. The first time I was able to set it free. I thought it’d get better. The dreams. The anxiety attacks. The pounding in my chest when someone would mention something that brought back memories.
Memories that I want so badly to forget.
Most think the relationship we had was just a short fling that meant nothing.
Yes, it was short, but it didn’t mean nothing- it meant that I was forever bound with nightmares. Forever living with flashbacks. Trust me, I wish it meant simply nothing. It meant that I forever was living with something.
I wish nothing more than to go back in time, and never have agreed to go on a date. Never agreed to give him my number. Never agreed to go to his house. Never agreed to be his girlfriend. Never agreed to many things.
But, the past is the past, and I cannot change it.
I read a post on Facebook the other day, and it stated: Verbal abuse is just as bad as physical abuse. Cuts and bruises heal, but memories last forever.
I think that sometimes verbal abuse gets pushed under the rug. People will tell you to just brush it off. But, those words last forever. Especially when the things being said has to do with sex, and your faith.
So now when those two things are discussed, the memories seep back in.
A month or so ago, I found out that on Facebook, he still had that we were in a relationship together. It might have seemed like nothing to everyone else, but to me, that was like he still had me hooked. I just wanted to be free.
He probably thinks nothing of me. He lives every day and doesn’t have to live with those few days of hell I went through at the very end of the relationship. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Maybe she’s going through what I went through. Maybe not. Maybe he’s in another state. Maybe when he looks back, it was just a fling.
I don’t get that luxury. I want nothing more that to be able to label it a fling. Instead, it’s a nightmare.
I wish, so wish, that I could explain what it’s like. I know for a fact, that most think it’s nothing. You might even say I should stop bringing it up, or talking about it. But I live with this every single day. I am finally opening up about it because I had the choice: live with it, but not talk about it, or live with it and talk about it. The only way he wins is if I let him. If I hide from it. I want to let others know they aren’t alone. No matter what type of relationship it was, you aren’t alone. You are worthy. You are loved.
To the people that say it’s nothing. Then what would you call months of nightmares? Crying in private, crying in public? Waking my fiancé up at 2am because I am scared? Having panic attacks when I see a truck that looks like his? Not being able to go to the beach without being in a constant attack?
But sure, it’s nothing to you, but to me, it’s everything I want to forget.