After the first day he hit me, things had seemed to have gotten better. He stopped talking to other girls, he’d take me on surprise dates, bring me lunch and flowers to school, things seemed to be back to how they were in the beginning. We were happy again. For the next two months, things were perfect.
A little detail, our relationship pretty much had the stereotypical gender roles. He took care of me, and I took care of the house. One day, he had to work late and didn’t have a great day. While he was gone, I was working on a project for school. I lost track of time and forgot to start dinner. Bryan did not like coming home to dinner not being ready or the house being messy, that was something I knew from the beginning. As he pulled into the driveway I realized I forgot to make dinner, but I thought he would understand since I was doing my schoolwork. It wasn’t a big deal, we could just go get something or order some pizza. Well, Bryan didn’t see things that way, he got angry and felt that I was taking advantage of his kindness. This time, he didn’t hit me just once, and I honestly couldn’t give an estimate of how many times he did. But again, he made me believe that it was my fault, that I deserved it.
I woke up the next morning in so much pain and I had bruises all across my body. I didn’t go to school that day and I never to this day told anyone what happened. After that, the physical abuse became more and more frequent, and eventually it got to the point that he was hitting me almost everyday for the slightest reasons. I became used to it, I lost myself in the abuse, and I became weak.
In every situation, he and I would both find some reason that it was my fault that he hit me. I loved him so much that I’d make an excuse for everything he did. Each time I would look at my promise ring and tell myself, he still hasn’t broken his promise, he was still taking care of me and he still loved me. And besides, even though we had a lot of bad times, we also had plenty of great times in between. I had trained myself to believe that as long as he continued to take care of me financially, everything else was ok because he was doing his part as the man. That way of thinking hurt me as the abuse continued for over a year.
After 2 and a half years with him, I was finally getting tired of the pain. Why did someone who was supposed to love me hurt me so much? I was finally ready to leave him, but I knew from experience how dangerous that could be. At that point, I thought that there was only one way out. I didn’t think that I’d leave the relationship with my life so I made a choice, either he would take it, or I would. I refused to give him that power over me, so the next time he hit me, I took a handful of pills hoping to overdose. He saw what I had done and quickly shoved his fingers into my mouth to make me throw it up. That is the one thing that I will be forever thankful for. But that only made him angrier. He hid his anger that night and made me believe that he was sorry for pushing me to that point, but the next day things went right back to how they were.
About a month later, I was determined to try again, I couldn’t take it anymore. This time, I waited until he was gone at work, it was about 2-3pm. I had a bottle of prescription narcotic pain killers, so I took a series of handfuls until I finished all of the pills.
This next part of the story is based on what I was told. Bryan had gotten home from work at about 6pm to find me unconscious on the floor with the pill bottle next to me. He immediately went into a panic  and tried to wake me up and make me throw it up again, but I wouldn’t wake up. So Bryan then rushed me over to the hospital where they had to pump my stomach. The hospital staff and Bryan contacted my mother who came to the hospital right away.
Two days later, I finally woke up. I was so confused waking up in the psych ward of the hospital, but I was happy to find my mother sitting on the side of my bed. No one knew why I tried to take my own life, by this point Bryan was careful to not leave bruises or marks on my body so there were no signs of abuse. As soon as I was going to explain to my mother, Bryan came into the room and hugged and kissed me as if everything was fine. He didn’t want anyone to suspect him of anything, so he remained by my side everyday as the loving, devoted boyfriend.
After some time in the hospital and proving my mental stability, I was ready to be discharged from the hospital. When asked if I had someone to take care of me for a few days at home, I immediately gave my mothers name. I refused to leave with Bryan because I could only imagine what he would have done once we got home, so I made clear to everyone there that I would be leaving with my mother. That day is among one of the best of my life.
Bryan knew that me not going home with him was the end of us. So when I left with my mother, I gave him a nice passionate kiss, whispered how much I loved him but it was over, and I have never seen or spoken to him since. I left everything I had at his house, I had no clothes or anything but it didn’t matter to me, I was finally free. It took quite some time, but the pieces of my life are finally putting themselves back together and I have finally learned who I am.
Although I went through a lot of pain to learn this, I am glad to now know that love does not hurt. If someone is able to raise their hand to you, that is NOT love! I’ve finally figured out what I deserve and I learned my worth. I know that I’m still alive for a reason and I have a purpose on this earth, I also know that one day I will have a love that is pure and kind. To this day, this is not an easy topic for me to talk about. But I hope that this possible reaches a reader who is going through something similar. Death is NOT the only way out, and you can talk to someone about what you are going through. There is help out there for you, and there are people who have been through the same thing as you.
You are STRONG, you are WORTHY, and LOVE DOES NOT HURT!