To Hurt and Love

When we experience our first love, we are blinded by all things. We never know when enough is enough. Those little red flags become minor slip-ups that we constantly let go. This is my story.

I was 15 when I met the love of my life. It was the junior year of high school when we met in English class. He was the new kid in school and he enticed me beyond words. As quiet as a mouse but as tough as a bull, he was. As the days went on, I realized I saw him everywhere. I stalked him and waited almost two weeks until I finally approached him. The moment we exchanged words he captured me. We quickly went from project partners to the hottest couple on campus. I remembered the first time we met each other's families. His grandmother invited me to a family birthday party and things got even more serious. We fell hopelessly in love. We spent every second we could with each other. I would come to class and there would be roses and donuts on my desk. Everyone stopped in awe when they saw us together. As radiant as ever.

This all sounds like the perfect fairytale and it was. Never in a million years would I have thought we could have grown apart. With a love so intense comes jealousy and insecurities. I've always heard there will be prettier girls and I was always afraid they would win. I grew anxious that he would look at those pretty girls. The slightest change in his tone worried me. The second I felt something was wrong, I became angry and violent. I will be the first to admit I was violent first. I will never try to justify it because there is no justification. When I thought he was potentially cheating on me, I would push him around, take his phone, scream, act out, and etc. He was patient with me (at first) because he understood my frustration. Little did I know, I opened a portal of hurt that I was not prepared for.

Give or take, the first year or so of our relationship defined what a genuine relationship was. We helped each other through everything: death, financial loss, mental illness, you name it. He was my rock and I was his. The shift in emotion began to gradually grow and it was so slow, I almost didn't recognize it. We went from wild adventures together to never going out. The roses stopped. Minor inconveniences led to flew blown arguments and that's where the horror began. I remember the first time he beat me. We were in his room at his grandmother's house and he thought I was messaging and entertaining other guys. I was never perfect; I would talk to boys all the time and sometimes not even in the manner that you would think. I was always surrounded by guys so it created a negative image. I can just recollect how hard he punched me. My teeth began to bleed and I shook in fear. I couldn't believe it. We argued as I quietly wept and pleaded for mercy. Somehow, I had convinced myself that it was all my fault. I was defeated. I concluded that I should have never had that many guy friends whether they were genuine or not. This simple conclusion is what granted him the ability to have me in any way he wanted.

The abuse went from physical to emotional to verbal to mental. He tore me down in ways unimaginable and I let him because I loved him so dearly. He would constantly tell me how I wasn't enough and how he could always find someone better, so what did I do? I tried harder. Everything I did was to please him. I didn't know how to say enough was enough. Even when he put a promise ring on my finger, things were rough but the ring is what kept me going. He must love me if he was willing to put a ring on my finger, right? Wrong. It was sick manipulation. I went from a resilient whirlwind to a depressed homebody. I never wanted to go out because I didn't want to disrespect him. I stopped talking to people because he didn't like anyone. I wasn't myself. I didn't know who this girl was but I was trapped.

It took another year before I snapped out of his trance. I had learned he cheated on me and it broke me into pieces. Although that's not the worst part. He kicked me out and I was homeless for about three months. He tried to convince me that it was what we needed. The distance would help rekindle our failing relationship. My family at home was already in a rough spot so I had nowhere to go. He would come and visit me as I laid miserably in a tent. He would come for sex and then leave. I was so desperate to have him back that I believed everything said. In reality, he had kicked me out to bring his new girl. This man was my world. This was the man who I had given my body to in ways unimaginable. No one could have told me that I wasn't going to have his children and be by his side for the rest of my life. He had captured my mind and soul only to bar them from my sane conscience. It was a fight to gain every ounce of myself back but, I am rejuvenated.

Being in that relationship taught me how to treasure myself and my values. He was a danger to a better me. In order to be great, you have to stay true to yourself. Never allow someone to break you down. Love is not worth your state of mind. You are so much more than the bite marks, black eyes, and bruised arms. The tears you shed in the mist of love and hurt shall be reaped as the blood of your oppressor. It took losing myself and being trashed away for me to rise as a powerful being. It is not my fault that he beat me but, it was my fault for allowing it to go for so long. We are so much stronger than what we credit ourselves and sometimes it takes the worst to bring that out. To love and hurt is an arrangement of beautiful madness and we are the craziest of soldiers to endure the battle.

Personal Note

This is a very personal story that I have chosen to share because it needed to be let go. Through writing, I am able to let go and debrief myself of negative energy. It is important to let go of the things that hurt us so that we can move forward in life. I hope that this gives someone the courage to rid themselves of what hurts them!