My Experience with a Toxic Relationship

I've kept these truths to myself. Only a few know the complete story. This is my experience. I did not make this story up.

We were best friends from sixth grade to senior year. Or, at least, that's what we told each other. In sophomore year, we began flirting and becoming close. I was in a relationship and I believe he was too. In the second semester of junior year, we got together. We thought this would be a great idea. Two best friends being boyfriend and girlfriend. We hoped for a future together. At first, the relationship was okay. We watched movies. We went to each other's houses. We enjoyed each other's company. Until the new guy came into his friend group. His friend group began to enjoy the new guy more and he was torn up about it. It was all he talked about and he started getting angry with me. Because it was somehow my fault like the events in the near future were. I broke up with him. I was having my own issues at home. My mom passed away in the summer and my dad was moving a woman and her daughter into the house. I was under a lot of stress and had a lot of anger.

We talked and got back together. We continued being us until the end of the semester came. We were driving down a road and accidentally hit a guard rail. It was my fault. I showed him a text on his phone while he was driving. "What's my mom going to say!" "Why did you do that!" When his mom found out, she yelled at him. He yelled at me. A couple of days later, I left again. I was talking to someone else and began my summer fling. He had his summer fling to make me jealous. I was. His friend wrote me, cussing me and threatening for me to leave him alone. He was just defending his friend. We got back together. I pretended nothing happened. I thought he did too. I didn't know I'd be questioned for months. Yelled at for months. Months of "I'm sorry!" Months of tears. Hell was coming my way.

At first, it was just questions. "Was he better than me?" "Was he bigger than me?" "I need to know what all y'all did." "You better hope you're telling me everything." "I'll find out the truth." "You're not telling me everything." The accusations made me feel so dirty. So nasty. I shouldn't have even looked at that other guy. I had to repeat my whole fling over and over. A two week fling that was talked about non-stop. He told me I was like a prostitute, except I gave sex for free to make other guys happy. He got on my old Facebook account because we a conjoined account. He asked that guy everything. The guy told him. Yes, I left some details out because I really felt like it was none of his business. When the guy told him those details, I didn't hear the end of it. We fought. It was my fault why he punched his wall. It was my fault why he wanted to die. It was my fault why he was making bad grades. This escalated. It was my fault his dad left him at the age of two. It was my fault that his mom and stepdad were so hard on him. It was my fault other girls treated him so badly in past relationships. It was my fault his friends were changing. It was my fault my family and friends were beginning to not like him. It was my fault the teachers were asking if I was okay. Everything was my fault and he wanted me to pay for it.

I did.

He didn't go to my birthday party. He stopped holding my hand. He'd tell me he couldn't look at me. I was just a thread wrapped around his finger. And I sure as hell wasn't loose.

I went to counseling. I told him it was over my home situation and my deceased mother, which wasn't a lie. But I talked mostly about him.

Please know the following is not a lie. It's not an exaggeration. I still have nightmares of this.

It was after school, we were going to his house. He was speeding. Really fast. I told him he needed to slow down. He said he wanted us both to die. We got to his house and went inside. He was yelling at me and making me feel awful. We were fighting at the front door. His mom had gone to pick up his siblings. His stepfather was at work. He said he'd be right back as I had tears running down my face. When he came back, I was screaming and hyperventilating. He had a butcher knife. I was begging him not to hurt me, not to kill me. He was offended. "Be quiet, I'm not going to kill you." I was shaking and I just wanted to run. I fell to the floor and sat. "It's for me." His plan was to kill himself so I could watch. I crying, screaming, begging.

His mom pulled up. We went to his room. Pretended it never happened.

Every time he'd yell at me, I'd punch myself in the face, go silent and ignore him, or make myself throw up just so he'd stop.

My older sister was starting to become very suspicious of him. She knew I didn't look right. Didn't act right. I was in denial and thought he was still great. She wanted me to leave him. I told him. "I don't want you ever talking to her again. If I find out, you'll be sorry." I stopped talking to her. She got pregnant and found out. I couldn't tell her I was so happy for her or that I can't wait to be an aunt. He found out.

We were sitting in class and it was all the could talk about. "She doesn't deserve to have children!" "It's going to be the spawn of Satan." "I hope something terrible happens to her during the pregnancy." It was when I heard the words, "don't you," come out of his mouth make me wish I really wasnt alive. He was waiting for my answer. This is when hatred for him really began. He was still asking about that fling. He was still crying every single night on the phone about it and how he never wants me to do it again.

My friends were next to see his true colors. "I don't really want you talking with them. Your friends are weird and bitchy." I stopped.

My mental health was declining. The names I was being called. His friends making fun of me while he laughed along. The girl he was talking to behind my back taking pictures of me and laughing at me. Being alone. I was cutting my wrists, my legs. I was writing terrible, depressing poetry. I wasn't eating. I was taking Tylenol PM every time I woke up. I was sick and tired and pushed everyone away.

I felt dead.

He stopped taking me to his house. He'd just drop me off. I'd pray he'd get into a car accident each time he left. I'd run to the woods to cry, so my siblings wouldn't see. I wrote my suicide note. But realized I'm too much of a coward to end my life. I wanted things to change.

My sisters and best friend gave me an intervention. I was ready to give up.

I left him for what I didn't know was the last time.

His friends and him were continuing to make me cry in class. I was a whore. So, I showed them what a real whore was. I slept with numerous guys. My body count was still a single digit. Less than six. I didn't go to prom because his friends and him already ensured I'd have a terrible night. I didn't care.

He still called. He still talked to me in school. He had to know about these other guys. He had to know what I was doing when I got home.

Graduation day was coming. I was talking to someone new. Someone who made my days better with just Facebook messages. *Spoiler Alert* This someone is my husband today. We were waiting in line to go into the gym. He saw the guy I was talking to and began mouthing, "I can't believe you. I hate you." He had brown eyes that would turn almost black when he was angry. I was trying not to cry the whole time. After graduation, I didn't go sleep with that guy like he accused me of doing. I spent time with my sister and getting my first tattoo.

He still called. He still texted.

It wasn't until August that I ignored him. I was over him. I was falling in love.

The calls and texts were less and less.

But I was beginning to get threatening text messages from phone numbers.

I was in Walmart with my boyfriend and the texts kept coming. These people were saying terrible things. I was embarrassed because I was bawling in the middle of freaking Walmart.

I blocked the numbers.

I blocked his number.

I got engaged.

He said congratulations.

My fiance told him off.

We never heard from him again.

Please be careful of who you date. You never know what a person is capable of doing to you. You may be thinking, you could've left so easily. I didn't see it that way. You may be thinking, I shouldn't have upset him with other guys and such. I wasn't the only bad guy. I've made my share of mistakes. I made him cry. I wished secretly for his death. I told people how scared I was of him. I lied a lot so he'd stop asking the same questions every day. I was scared and miserable. He took me to church and would make me feel like a whore who really needed it. If it wasn't for my older sister and my husband, I'd probably still be trapped today.

It's been two years since this all happened. Why am I now talking about it? With people on the media finally speaking out, I felt like I had a right to say my experience. No, I can't say #MeToo because I wasn't raped or beat up, but emotional abuse can be just as bad as physical abuse.

I did get tested for STDS for the guys I slept with and him and came back with a miracle of news that I had none.

And if he ever reads this, sorry, but you traumatized me. When I go to a store, I get scared you'll be near. When I have an unknown call or text, I worry that someone gave you my phone number. I have nightmares of you weekly. Just when I think you don't have control, you still do because I'm paranoid.

My husband said he'd protect me from you. He'll never let you talk to me. Touch me. Ever again.

Also, my sister later had a daughter. And recently, a son. Both beautiful and healthy. And she is a WONDERFUL mother.