I Saw Everything

We had known each other casually, through mutual friends, for about a year. Having been in a bad relationship before, I was more careful this time. Having mutual friends made me feel that this person was somehow already vetted and safe.

We had only started dating a couple of weeks when he called early one morning. He wanted to know what I was doing. I told him I had just gotten out of the shower. He responded that he was sitting in his car, outside of my home. How long would it take for me to come out?

What I felt in that moment was an excitement that he wanted to see me, an urgency to see him, and a nervousness not to keep him waiting. So it only took me a couple of minutes to tug jeans and a tee-shirt over my damp body, brush a light coat of mascara over my lashes, and run outside.

Out of breath, and with my hair barely towel dried, I hopped in his car. He nodded and smiled as he tapped the time on his phone. “It only took you five minutes.” My heart filled at his approval.

What I didn’t know was that this should have been a red flag. He was testing me. He was testing my boundaries. He needed to know that if he said “jump,” I would only respond with, “How high?”

The following month, we decided to go to the skating rink. I put my things, phone included, into a locker while skating. We had a good time. As I opened the locker to get my things, my phone rang. I dug it out and saw that it was him! Funny, since he was removing his skates about 12 feet away. I smiled as I looked up to see him watching me.

Once again, he had that approving look on his face. I shut the locker and joined him. “Why’d you call?” I laughed. He shrugged and told me he wanted to see my expression when I saw it was him. I thought it was a little strange, but I was glad I had passed another test.

As the months went by, I was rewarded with these periodic looks of approval. They had a way of making me feel like I was passing a test. Each one made me want another.

I took his suggestion on what to wear. Approval.

He was coming for dinner and expected to be impressed. I impressed him.

His boss at work didn’t appreciate him. Would I support him starting his own business? Of course! I loved him. Approval.

He had a secret in his past that he needed to tell me about. It was all a misunderstanding and he was actually innocent. I understood and passed another test.

His ex made things up about him and had the nerve to be worried about me. She was a bitch and never understood him. Another passed test.

In reality, he was conditioning me and training me to seek his approval and trust him no matter the cost to me. The first significant cost came after we decided to move in together. He had a brand new truck, but his older, beloved car needed a new battery so that he could move it to our new home together. He just needed to borrow the battery out of my old car to get his moved. Of course!

Only, he didn’t get around to putting the battery right back in my car. Since I worked from home, I didn’t use it much. If I was leaving the house, he was with me anyway, so we took his truck. By the time we went to get my car, it had been towed at least a week before. Now that I was the only one working, since his new business wasn’t making money yet, I couldn’t afford to get my car back. He brushed it off. "It was old anyway. You can use mine."

I gave up my independence bit by bit. It started with the car. He had his truck for his transportation needs. But every time his car was running, I’d get to use it for only a few days—weeks at best—before he would find something else he wanted to fix. Then he would take it apart in the garage again. It would sit there for months before being put back together so I could use it. As the months and years went by, I went out less and less without him.

I needed his approval for everything. However, the longer we were together, the less I could get it. Like tiny grains of sand in an hourglass, the approval dropped over time and became more and more disapproval.

My independence was not all I lost. I lost weight too. I was thinner than I had been since my teen years, but I was still never thin enough. I used a salad plate while he used a dinner plate. If I reached for seconds, I received a disapproving look.

His disapproval started any morning I dared to get up before him. No matter what the plans for the day were, that was enough to throw him into a spiral.

If I was in a good mood without him, he would pick me apart until I was as miserable as he was. Many times I would lock myself in the bathroom, crying and wondering why I was such a terrible person for upsetting him again. Only when I was at my lowest would his mood improve. He would sit outside of the bathroom door and talk in the sweetest voice imaginable, begging me to stop crying and open the door so he could make me feel better.

That became our cycle. I could be happy only if he was. If I dared to show independent thoughts, plans, or ambition, he picked at me until I realized what a disappointing person I really was. Once I reached that point, without fail, his mood would suddenly lift and he would do everything in his power to rescue me from my misery. I received his approval when he could wipe away my tears and help me to my feet. I guess he didn’t realize he was the one who kept knocking me down.

And I didn’t realize that I was the one who kept giving him the power to do it. He had drawn the map and taught me how to follow it all the way to complete dependence on him. But his perfect map had a critical flaw. It was killing me.

I needed a new map.

I suppose it didn’t fully hit me until a scene unfolded in the foggy library parking lot early one morning. I had reserved something at the library and needed to pick it up. I went alone well before the library opened.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I didn’t think much of the only other car around. The windows were fogged, but so was the air on that chilly morning. The library wasn’t open yet. I backed into my chosen parking space, on the far edge, beside a small tree, feeling safely tucked away and secluded. From that spot I could easily see the entire parking lot, with the library door across the lot, in front of me.

I needed a small break. The parking lot was surrounded by trees with the soft sound of traffic on the main road just beyond. But it was peaceful in my little corner. The other car was parked about half a dozen spaces away. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the tranquility.

Suddenly, a woman’s voice let out one of those loud, annoyed groans that’s almost a scream. She stood outside the other car and slammed the door. As she walked away from it, she threw on a jacket. I wondered for a moment if she was exclaiming because of the chill in the crisp morning air. But that thought was immediately expelled as she exclaimed, “I’m so f***ing sick of it!”

Understanding dawned, and my heart went out to her as I saw her sit on a curb not far from her car. There was no doubt in my mind that her partner sat in the car, waiting for her to come back and finish the argument. At least she was getting a little needed space. That’s more than my partner did for me.

As my chest ached for the woman, I couldn’t help but think of what my man and I must have looked like in public on so many occasions. All the times a stranger stopped and asked if I was okay, watching and making a call that spurred my man to drive us out of the area.

I pulled myself away from the memories and leaned over to see if the woman was still sitting on the curb. She was.

I prayed for her, and in my heart I spoke to her. “Oh my dear. I know you feel that you must get back in that car, but when you do, know this. You are worth so much more. You are wanted. You are called. You have a purpose bigger than this relationship. One day, all of this will seem so temporary and pointless, and that disagreement you’re having in that car won’t even be worth remembering. But you, my dear, do not need to continue this crazy cycle anymore.”

The woman got back in the car, and I could hear screaming through my windows, across the parking spaces, and through the closed up car the couple sat in. It lasted less than a minute and then all was quiet.

As I sat, silently speaking first to her, and then to myself, I saw the map unfold in front of me. I could easily trace the path I had followed and the turns I could have made along the way, but didn’t. I ached for a woman I knew nothing about. And yet, I saw myself in this other woman. She showed me more about myself than I had been able to see in years.

Soon a window rolled down a few inches, and a cigarette butt dropped from a hand. It’s been over a decade since that foggy morning scene that helped me see the reality of my situation. Sometimes I still think of that woman and hope she has also found her own map.