Modern Confusion

Trigger Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Assault, Depression and Suicide

Disclaimer: This is my real life story and experience that has shaped my opinions on the world around me, so I feel entitled to do so. None of my imagery will be graphic as it is likely even more difficult for me to recall than it would be for you to read. If this were a movie, I'd give it a PG-13 rating; however, I know a lot of people with similar life experiences could be thrown back into the vivid emotions and memories of those experiences by reading the following. As such, I recommend that you exercise the level of caution you feel appropriate for the point you are in your life right now. The few names used are shortened to initials to protect the privacy of those involved on both sides.

"Babe, you know I can't..." There's a thousand one reasons long distance relationships suck, but the worst was having this conversation over text for the umpteenth time.

"Everyone else does," came the angry reply.

Frustrated with the fact that he still wouldn't take no for an answer, I quip back, "Why do we have to be everybody else?"

"Oh, well I'm sorry that I want a more adult relationship considering we're adults now." I wish the words didn't hurt the way they did, the way he knew they would, adding another layer to the feelings of inadequacy that grew each day.

"I told you this from the start..." I hit enter before adding one more painful plea, "you said it was okay..."

Ignoring my emotional turmoil he responded, "M. said he wouldn't date a girl who wouldn't have sex with him, even if it was for religious reasons, because it means she loves God more than him, and I'm kinda starting to agree with him." More inadequacy and fear that the faith I cherished now made me a "bad girlfriend."

"Why can't I love you and my religion? Why does it have to be either/or?"

"Do you love it more than me?"

"No," I lied. He would never understand the truth. For me everything tied back to God. I tried to be low-key because I know not everyone agrees, especially not him, but I found purpose and meaning in my faith. Clearly, life long meaning and happiness in the next life should take priority over any single person, right? Especially since I would want the same for him! Then why do you insist on making him so unhappy right now? my mind whispered and I slumped back. I was more miserable than I'd been in years and I was surely taking him down with me. Why couldn't I just be like "other girls?"

My phone dinged and I reluctantly looked at a reworded version of a message I'd read a thousand times, "Look, I'm just really stressed with homework and exams right now."

Allowing myself to perk up at the thought of something I could do to prove my love and my worth, "I can help! I can proofread any of your essays. I'm really good at it. I can even help you do some of the research if you want." Never mind that I had my own homework and classes piling up next to me.

"You know that's not what I meant."

I sink back into the worthless meatshell of my body, the only thing that mattered, as I wished I could be anybody else.

---

That conversation is burned into my mind because it happened a thousand times. Only in hindsight do I see the emotional abuse and manipulation that riddled that relationship, but to the mind of a lovestruck college freshman intent on proving the world wrong that she and her high school sweetheart could make it against the odds, it just meant I needed to work harder. That's what my parents always said. Successful relationships require effort. Problems will occur, but you just have to work through them. I focused on that every time a conflict came up, even though the conflicts were always the same.

I let him take out his stress and frustration on me despite my needs only being addressed when he was in a good enough mood to make me stay. I asked his permission to go out and believed him when he said, "you don't have to ask me lol," even though he called and yelled at me as soon as I got home, guilting me for not respecting his feelings. The feelings he only voiced after the fact, mind you, but that didn't cross my mind either as I apologized profusely and added it to the list of things my boyfriend didn't allow me to do. I even asked if I was allowed to be friends with cool people I met in class and it would be a similar thing. If I had too much fun with them, I'd be chewed out when I got home. Each thing seemed so small and he made it sound so reasonable, but as all the rules piled up and the approve friends list dwindled away, the brainwashing settled in, replacing my sense of self.

That said, even I could see that something wasn't right. I may not have been able to see the real problem, but I could see his vitriol and my self-loathing. I decided that if I bought I plane ticket, spent a week visiting him, hung out with his friends and brought him gifts, then maybe everything would go back to the happy dynamic we had in high school. That, unfortunately, was not the case. The flight home, I switched between shock, fear, and dissociation as I tried to make sense of my last night there. The shadows on his face. My repeated requests for it to stop. Narrowly escaping to hide in the bathroom under the pretense of needing to pee. The memories that wouldn't sink in. The experience that I couldn't label, until the plane landed, I threw it away and waited for a ride from my best friend, who my boyfriend didn't approve of, but I hung out with anyways.

K, the best friend, asked if I was okay considering I had texted him everything from the bathroom. The shock ran so deep, the horrors locked so deeply in a box in my mind, that I said I was fine. He took me to IHOP, quizzically watching me, trying to figure out how I was okay, because the truth was, I was so far from okay, I couldn't even tell anymore. It wasn't until I got and slept that I woke up with the realization of what had happened, the two words to summarize it. Sexual assault.

I texted K. to come over as I was finally freaking out. With him there as a support, I called my boyfriend and ended things in tears. He didn't understand what he did wrong. He denied me asking him to stop. He said it wouldn't happen again. He said he would rather that I had punched him in the face than leave him now, but it was no use. I had woken up in more ways than one. It was over.

---

I could go into details about the aftermath, about how I was still making sense of the world now that I didn't have someone controlling my every move. About how I still didn't want to "hurt him" by telling the police. About how he turned all our mutual friends, my only friends, against me because I agreed to be silent and "civil," so he took a chance to put in the first word. About the confusion and chaos and pain. About how the only reason I didn't go back was K. encouraging me to be myself and be strong, because K. didn't need to say he cared about me when he was the only one who showed it.

I could describe those months in detail, but I won't. Instead, I will share what 3 years of therapy and reflection has taught me about the experience. Aside from the obvious fact that lust isn't love, kindness doesn't entitle you to physical affection. No matter how much you help a person through life, even if you save their life from the darkness within themselves, no matter how much love you have or show, their body is still their body to which you have no right. Even if you dated them for 2 years, when they say no, it still means no. Duration does not entitle you to control, because control in never a two-way street. There is no relationship in the world where either partner can feel entitled to the other's life, body, and emotions, and that relationship still be equal.

Relationships are a two-way street. Yes, they take work and things will never be easy, but if you're the only one working, it isn't a relationship of love but servitude. I learned these things the hard way. The experiences that taught me this have cost me thousands of dollars as I deal with the fact that they are burned into my mind, which is why I cannot let myself be silent. There is not a soul in this world who deserves to go through the things that I did, so I beg you, please take these lessons to heart. If you, like my former flame, feel entitled to someone's body in exchange for you actions, change that mindset. Please. It may not be easy, ask a therapist to help you if you need, there is no shame in needing help to work through ideas and experiences that have no place in your life, but there is, or should be, shame in destroying someone's mind and soul as thoroughly as this can. If you, like me, have fallen into the trap of trying harder for a person determined to break you, leave. Just...leave.