My ex never hit me. He never called me names, or outwardly forced me to do anything.
But he was manipulative. Toxic. And – although I hate the word – towards the very end of our relationship, he was abusive. It was his words – it was all in his words.
His mood would change in an instant – he would go from being happy and loving to passive-aggressive and cold. He would get frustrated with me when I stayed up or out too late, telling me I wasn’t taking care of myself and that he was concerned for my health. He would say he was okay with me being up a little bit later than him, but he would act the opposite, and when I called him out on it he told me he wasn’t acting that way and made me feel ridiculous for thinking differently. I remember one night, I was at the Student Union with friends – it was barely 8 or 9 p.m., but he was angry with me for still being out, and he kept telling me I needed to go back to my dorm because I was up too late since I had classes the next day. It would have taken me no more than 10 minutes to get back to my dorm. I stopped hanging out with my friends past 8 p.m. in fear that he would get upset. We argued one too many nights about us not going to bed at the same time. I went to school in a different time zone – he was an hour ahead of me. It didn’t matter to him.
Anytime I brought up the idea of getting a new tattoo, or piercing, he would get frustrated. He said logical things, like “Why don’t you give it some time? Wait and think about it?” Which made sense, until I decided to get my nose pierced after four years of wanting to get it done but never having the opportunity, and he still tried to tell me to not do it, to wait. When I brought up ideas of tattoos or piercings that I might want to get in the future and he shot them down, I would stand up for myself and say that I would still get them if I wanted to regardless of if he told me not to. He told me I wasn’t taking his feelings into consideration.
The biggest problem was in the past – literally. He was disgusted by my sexual past – despite me having only been with two people before him. I remember us sitting on my bed and he said he couldn’t stand to look at my sheets, knowing what had been done on them. I couldn’t talk about the town I went to high school in, because it reminded him of what I had done there (aka losing my virginity). But he never blamed me directly – he said hated the two people I had had sex with. Said he “hated what they had done to me”, even though nothing I ever did was against my will.
I never had sex with him. I didn’t feel good enough for him. To him, what I had done with my body in the past was shameful; what made that any different than what I would be doing in the present with him?
I can’t touch people anymore. A simple hug or even a handshake makes my skin crawl. I feel disgusting in my own skin.
Nothing I ever did in my relationship felt good enough. His constant need to be right made me feel wrong. I was never his equal. Even when he tried to tell me we were equals – although more often than not he tried to tell me I was better than him – I felt the opposite, because I couldn’t make him feel better. I couldn’t make him feel good about his self, or good about his life. Even though that wasn’t my job.
I tried to convince myself for the longest time that things were okay. That he only acted those ways because he had my best interest at heart and loved me. And maybe he did, but his words never reflected that. And the pit in my stomach didn’t either. I came out the other end of our relationship unsure of who I even was anymore, because I had spent so much time trying to be the woman he wanted me to be that I forgot who I wanted me to be. I won’t say I was perfect in the relationship either, though. But my biggest mistake was pretending like I was okay with how I was being treated.
I never felt like enough for him until I finally decided to let him go. I strongly believe the best thing I did for either of us was break off our relationship. I thought I was happy during the relationship – we had a lot of affectionate and loving moments, and I thought well, if he’s so sweet, how can our relationship be toxic? but I always knew something was off. I’ve come to realize I was just complacent in my pain, and I had to realize that there was more to life than bringing yourself down in the name of pleasing others.
I’m not writing this to put him on blast, or in scorn. I’m writing this for two reasons: One, I am still dealing with the backlash of our relationship. Dealing with feelings of inadequacy and second-guessing myself at every turn. Writing helps – it always has. And two – because I know I’m not alone. I know there are people out there dealing with the same things in their relationships, as unsure of what’s going on as I was – as confused as to why they always go to bed so sad, and can never seem to please their partner. If that’s you, I promise you that the pit in your stomach isn’t just going to go away. It’s your gut, and I wish I had listened to mine sooner. You don’t deserve the pain either.
Fists and insults aren’t the only red flags in relationships. Sometimes it’s hidden in their words that sound so right, yet feel so wrong.