A letter to my abuser,

When I met you I was convinced you were the one; the knight in shining armor I spent years and years waiting for. The one my mother told me stories about at night. The man who would keep me safe, who would cherish me, who would love me with all his heart and create a space for me that would finally feel like home.

But my mother forgot to warn me about your short temper. Your wandering eyes, your two hands that would turn to fists and become the reason I flinch every time someone moves too quickly. No one told me that every moment of pleasure meant I had to accept an hour of pain. I was never informed that somewhere down the rabbit hole of loving you, I would forget how to love myself. I was blissfully unaware that it would take a few years and a lot of tears for the scared little girl you turned me into to remember the fierce and fearless woman who fell in.

Looking back, I can clearly see all of the red flags. It started with the gaslighting. I remember you would tell me, “You’re making this worse than it actually is,” or maybe “Stop overreacting, you’re hurting me.” Once you’d deteriorated the trust I had in my own thoughts and feelings, I was nothing more than putty in your hands. I became impressionable and completely ready to be molded into whatever you wanted to see from me, and I was too naive to notice that it was your plan all along. Each request you made, no matter how extreme, I felt obligated to fulfill.

You don’t want me to go out without you because boys might look at me? I’ll stay at home.

You want to check my phone and keep my passwords? Absolutely, anything for you.

You want me to cut off one my closest friends because I’m bisexual and I just might develop a crush on her? Sure, love.

You want me somewhere right now? I drop everything and run.

Tell me darling, do you remember the night you left me alone, crying on the concrete of the parking lot? You know, the night you conveniently “forgot” to pick me up after one of our many halfway break ups? The night you let me walk the three miles to my home alone, knowing perfectly well I’m terrified of the dark. The night I spent examining my bruises in the mirror, praying my makeup would cover it well enough. The night I had to take four melatonin and two doses of NyQuil to sleep so hard I couldn’t possibly have nightmares of you? No, of course you don’t. Your head is too thick and your ego is too large to feel any sort of remorse. After every mark you left, every tear you caused, you don’t even realize how badly you scarred me.

It’s dangerous to believe that a person is more than a person, and that’s where I went wrong with you. I figured it was just like making a wish and if I obeyed that you would finally stop hurting me, and you would just listen or feel something, anything for me. It’s dangerous to cater to someone’s every whim, neglecting my own needs to ensure that I wouldn’t be hit/abandoned/forgotten, but I did for you. Everything I did, everything I said turned into a fight, and eventually, I was too worn down to even fight back. You stripped away my self-worth layer by layer until I was nothing but a shell of what I used to be. I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that. I don’t think I want to.

So to my past self,

You may have forgotten some things along the way, but your life is not over. There are a multitude of moments left for you to exist in, to love, and be loved. You may have forgotten about your dreams, but I promise to you they are still worth pursuing, even if he failed to believe in them and in you. The strong, beautiful girl you remember is still inside of you. She may be tucked away in boxes buried underneath guilt and painful memories, but she will always be there. She’s worth rescuing from the disillusionment and guilt and numbness. I hope you realize that you are and have always been whole, with or without him. In just a while, you will be truly happy with someone who treats you like the precious treasure you are. While he’s no knight in shining armor, (Mom lied, those don’t exist) he loves you dearly and would go to the ends of the world to help you. All will be well again, I swear.

Even if you don’t love yourself now, you will.

Best Wishes,

A Future You