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Trigger Warning: toxic relationships, emotional abuse, cheating, sexual assault, suicidial thoughts.
I was young and “in love” when I experienced my first (and hopefully last) abusive relationship. Like any sappy high school romance, we were perfectly happy when we started dating in our sophomore year. My ex-boyfriend, who I will call T, was in the band with me. We were able to see each other every day. A year into our relationship, I was dealing with a rejection from a leadership position that went to someone who was the band director’s favorite. I took it pretty hard; I told T that I needed a few days to myself to process and get over the initial hurt, since he was the one chosen for a leadership position, despite not auditioning for it. That put a wedge between us, understandably, but I could have been fine with it if he hadn’t started showing affection for someone else.
This girl, G, was the girlfriend of one of his friends, and she was also on the leadership team (despite being a year younger than the position requirements), so they began to spend a lot of time together. I don’t blame her (entirely, but that’s a different story) for what happened. It was T that shifted his focus to her, while keeping me strung along. He devoted almost every waking moment to her, getting to school early to hang out and going over to her house, but he swore that nothing physical was going on. Sure, nothing physical, but it was definitely emotional cheating. At this point, I was aware that the relationship had taken an unhealthy turn, and I told T that things needed to change or I wanted to break up. I didn’t tell him to cut G out of his life, but just to remember that I was his girlfriend, not her.
I wish I could say that was the end of it, but it’s not. Instead, it became a cycle of empty promises and a decrease in patience. “Of course I’ll change,” “I love you,” “why can’t you just chill,” “it’s just all in your head,” etc. etc. This was also a period in my life when my self-worth was dropping rapidly and depression was settling in. For more context, I’ve been struggling with depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember, so this whole situation made things extremely dark. It felt like there was no way out, other than trying to kill myself. Long story short, my parents found out, and I was no longer allowed to see T. Of course we still did see each other, going behind my parents’ backs, until T decided he wanted to pursue G.
For some, the fact that T never hit me or physically harmed me at this point would “invalidate” my claim of it being an abusive relationship. Relationship violence doesn’t have to be purely physical; it can be emotional, economic or psychological. Any pattern of behavior that is used to establish power or control over someone can be considered relationship abuse. That also extends to sexual abuse.
I am a huge supporter of the #MeToo movement because it brought awareness to sexual abuse within relationships. For the longest time, rape was only thought of as physically forcing someone to have sex of any form. The #MeToo movement taught us that consent can be revoked at any time and that coercion is a form of sexual abuse.
I bring this up because I am also a survivor of sexual abuse from the same relationship. T and I started to see each other on and off, a few months after G broke up with him. I was still depressed, and the idea of something being positive in my life again was enticing, so I allowed myself to fall into that vicious circle, once again. This time, however, the idea that providing him with oral sex would make him love me again crossed my mind. After the first two times, I didn’t want to do it anymore without getting something *ahem* in return. T would make outrageous demands, saying I had to shave and use fragranced soaps. I said no to those demands. Since I didn’t meet those demands, I was coerced into performing sexual favors for him.
Some days, he was gentle; mostly he was rough, his fingers twisting my hair or holding my jaw. He would be upset when I had to go back to class, and he would practically beg me to stay longer, until I convinced him school was more important.
I started to get tired of pleasing him, and I told him so. His reponse? “You’re just being emotional again. It’s not that big of a deal.” I started to stall, asking how his day was going or talking about things that were going on in band, but that never stopped us from doing what we did. When I asked if he could do something for me, he just moved my hand to where he wanted it.
The day did come when he was interested in my anatomy. He laid me bare on the floor, and I was pleased with the thought of sharing this intimate moment with him. Instead, he hovered over me and told me how easy it would be to take advantage of me in that moment. A student shuffling past the room made us both scramble apart until the person was far enough away. When it sounded like no one else was coming, before I could put my clothes back on, he violated me with two digits. I found blood on my underwear, later that day, and told him.
“Are you sure you just aren’t on your period? I couldn’t have hurt you.”
I told him that I was positive it wasn’t my period and that he tore something.
“Oh. Well, sorry.”
I never asked for something like that from him again. I went to the closet less and less. He got upset more and more. In the end, he was the one who decided that I wasn’t worth it again. This time, I didn’t mind.
If you or someone you know is experiencing or has experienced relationship violence, please seek out professional help. Find out more about relationship violence on the National Domestic Violence Hotline website.