I Freed Myself (LONG & TRUE STORY)

So, I was 19 years old. I was just starting my life, and I had it all. My car, my money, a good job, great friends and family, etc. Little did I know, I would sacrifice all of these precious things for someone who (eventually) verbally, mentally, and PHYSICALLY abused me. Someone who controlled me. Watched my every move like a f*****g hawk. Had my every password. Accused me of cheating 24/7/365. Literally. Would freak out on me over very minuscule things and every time I would walk away, or at least try to, that’s when the physical abuse started. He would get so angry, so enraged... he would cuss me, body slam me, push me down, wrestle me down on the ground, smack me around, squeeze me so hard that there would be finger marks embedded on my arms for weeks... bruises the size of Alaska... bruises on my face, arms, legs, and my body would just ache afterwards. Mind you I was very (and still am) short and small to be my age (19 at the time; 120lbs, 5’0” tall). Mentally and in my heart I KNEW I needed to leave but I would already know what would happen, and I would already feel my heart racing from being too scared to leave. Just thinking about leaving and how mad he was capable of getting.. it would make my heart beat out of my chest.

My family begged and begged me to leave him and drop him. They knew he was a leech and he was every bit of evil and poisonous. But for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to leave him EVEN THOUGH I KNEW HOW BAD HE WAS FOR ME AND HOW BADLY HE TREATED ME. It didn’t make sense to me. There was so many countless times I cried just because I was confused, and on top of that dealing with every bad thing he brought to the table.

I’m not sure what the turning point was for me, maybe I couldn’t take missing my friends any longer (I eventually had no friends because of how controlling he was. If people came over, it was for HIM). Or maybe I was tired of having a “man” try to tell me I needed to pick him over my own mother. Or maybe it was being tired of the abuse. Maybe it was the disrespect, or the name calling, or the constant arguing between him and his mother. If she wasn’t calling him a stupid son of a b***h, and telling him to get out of her house, it was him calling her a fat whore and a sweat hog. Even though it wasn’t always drama that dealt with me, it still affected me.

And one day I woke up for work, after being jobless for 9 months and being broke, he argued with me about something very small and very petty. He then rolled over and went back to sleep. Do you know what I did?

I packed my s**t, kissed my kittens goodbye, and I left.

My short lived anxiety turned into major panic attack mode because he then started texting and calling me nonstop, and eventually led to calling my job, trying to get in touch with me.

Lucky for me, I have very great coworkers and supervisors.

I haven’t been back.

I refuse to go back.

I will not go back.

Why?

Because I’m free. I’m finally free.