Let Me Be Real

I struggled to get up this morning. The pounding of my head numbed the stiffness in my muscles and the soreness of my back. Another day without a word. Another day where I don't know what to expect and I planned to be as compliant as possible.

There are forms of abuse that are unseen and unheard. No one knows that it is happening and no one suspects that something is wrong. Over time, you learn to go about your day and mask the discomfort you feel at all times. The tension that lingers just below your ears that you cannot seem to relax. The turning in your stomach when you're trying to enjoy yourself, but feel guilty about being happy. These are conditioned responses; this is abuse.

It took me a long time, longer than I am willing to admit, to understand what was happening. I started my relationship in full swing; I was young as was he. There were enough red flags that I could have filled a stadium, but I didn't see it (or I didn't want to). I wanted to fix him and at the same time, I needed him to fix me.

"Everything started fine," I often used this line to describe the beginning, but it was a lie I often ignored. Everything was, undoubtedly, not fine. I was quickly cut off from everyone I knew and isolated-red flag number one. I was then strategically placed in the maternal role of my partner's needs-red flag number two. I could never do anything right and was consistently led to believe that absolutely everything was my responsibility (from the bills to the kids to the necessities of our lives) and when it went wrong it was my fault. I spent countless days having my feelings invalidated or, in the worst times, being derogatorily demeaned.

I didn't know what gaslighting was nor was I familiar with emotional abuse. I wouldn't realize what I had gotten myself into until I was 28. By this point, my daughters were old enough to know that something was wrong and I needed to see it.

Over time, we experienced many trials and many fights. Constant threats of divorce and separation. We didn't give our eldest daughter what she needed in her toddler years and I know half of it was my fault. I wasn't strong enough to fight back; yet.

When I first started college at the age of 29, I knew I was finally doing what I was meant to do. Psychology was my calling and I have never learned so much about myself in such a short time as I did upon beginning my studies. I wasn't alone and my plight was all too common. Many women experienced much worse than I had, but many stories mirrored my own. My epiphany finally hit me and I knew things had to change.

Our eldest daughter had all but completely drawn away from both my partner and me and the truth began to unravel. I became more resilient and started "clapping" back. I grew my circle of friends and began to do for myself. I set boundaries I didn't know I could, for the girls and me. I continued my studies and changed a lot in my immediate surroundings to make sure I was taking care of myself, for once.

As I am writing this at 31 years and halfway done with my studies to my career path, I have grown more than I ever believed I could. I have set impenetrable boundaries, solidified stability for my daughters and me, and changed career paths from the poisonous parasitic job I had had for nearly a decade. I have finally found out who I am, what I am capable of, and who I know I am going to be. In the end, I let me be real-it always had to be me.