Author: Devyn Molina

The following may be triggering to those who’ve been affected by abuse. 

 

“I know exactly how to give you a panic attack,” he said nonchalantly as I began to hyperventilate.

My head shot up as I handed his phone to him, vision blurred from the mascara streaming down my face. My head was throbbing uncontrollably from sobbing so much. That night, I found out he was cheating on me with the same girl he had before, and, in a frenzied rage, I took his phone to find the messages they had been sending each other. Every sweet nothing he had uttered to me lost all meaning as I scrolled through a plethora of overused lines. The person in front of me once wanted to be my forever, now he wanted nothing to do with me.

Even though I could feel my heart breaking, I still wanted him. I needed him. He had been there through some of the darkest moments of my life, and I was certain my life without him would be a bleak existence. Maybe I could give him another chance. He was my everything. No matter how many times he hung up the phone while I was having a panic attack or told me my depression was an inconvenience, he was still there for me eventually and that’s real love… right? 

Instead, I spent the better half of that year trying to pick myself up and move on with my life. I had lost all interest in anything that could make me remotely happy: everything was tainted. The song that once sweetly reminded me of him was stripped of its sentiment, replaced with a harrowing sense of numbness. The beach we frequented was now a cesspool of heart-wrenching memories. Now and then I’d torture myself by scrolling through pictures of us, recounting our relationships timeline. I knew we weren’t the same. I knew he had changed. I blamed myself and my mental health for driving him away. But I was certain, with every fiber of my being, that he would come back to me.

After months of crying my eyes out until exhaustion put me to sleep, I suddenly stopped thinking about him. Instead, I would wake up, look at my phone, and not desperately hope his name popped up on my screen. I felt a new sense of purpose. I wasn’t the same girl who had sobbed loudly enough to muffle the sound of passing cars on that fateful Friday night. I believed that part of my life had been erased and I was starting over.

Five months later, I was in the corner of my current boyfriend’s apartment curled up in fetal position, unable to cease my uncontrollable sobs. My mind had decided it was time to unleash the traumatic memories of my two-year relationship. Flashbacks played in my head like a scary movie you can’t stop watching no matter how terrified you are. I remembered his verbal, emotional, and mental abuse. I remembered how much he talked down to me and how worthless I felt. I felt a variety of mixed emotions, including pain, guilt, and shame. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I let it go on for so long. I wanted to take a shower to scrub off the layer of disgust that consumed my body.

Here I was, finally happy with someone that truly and wholeheartedly cared about me — so why did this have to happen now?

That’s the thing about trauma, it stores itself in the back of your brain so you can endure the pain, giving no warning before re-entering your consciousness. My ex knew exactly what he was doing. He made me his puppet, toyed with my emotions, made me a lovestruck mess, then callously cut my strings.

Abusive individuals figure out a person’s weakness or what makes them vulnerable and then use it to their advantage. They’re extremely power-hungry, indulging in controlling the person they’re with. I know firsthand that being with an abusive person can significantly deteriorate your mental health. Your significant other should never be the reason that you’re depressed, that you’re coaxed into a panic attack, or that you feel somehow subhuman. It might take you some time to finally see that person for what they truly are, and that doesn’t make you naive and it most certainly does not make you weak. It’s easier said than done, but it’s up to you to keep that person out of your life. You and your mental health should always come first.

It may have taken over a year, but I’ve finally learned how to take the power back. And by that I mean, I’ve managed to accept that part of my life and not let it define me. You have so much life left; one toxic person shouldn’t be the reason you don’t get to truly live it.

Granted, getting to this point wasn’t easy. I still have days where I’m triggered by certain places, words, feelings, and things that send me back into that warped sense of thinking. I become depressed, riddled with regret. He recently tried to follow me again on Instagram and although I felt a brief moment of paralyzing fear, I made the decision to block him.

Toxic people don’t deserve a place in your life. Take solace in knowing that you never have to fix yourself. You don’t have to put the “pieces back together” — you were never broken. No one, regardless of who they are, has the power to do that. All of you is still there, it always will be, you just have to see it again.

 

All photos by Chad Moore.