Thursday, January 6, 2011

I like it Rough...

To not only save time, but also to spare you from the boring details of my childhood, I have chosen to omit those “boyfriend” that occurred in my prepubescent years. In other words, I will not be writing about my catholic school boyfriend, my church boyfriends, or anyone that came before high school when I truly knew what it meant to be a girlfriend to someone.

A few days ago I got a fortune cookie. The fortune read: courage comes through suffering. Therefore it is important to start with the relationship that “gave me the most courage.” It just so happens that this same guy was the first guy that “had my heart” while I was in high school.

I met him through a friend, of course, as many of these relationships in our lives often go. However, considering the friend I met him thorough I guess I should have known this wouldn’t be the man of my dreams. This guy had everything I wanted at the time though. I was the good girl looking for the bad boy and he MORE tan fulfilled my need for this rebellious attitude.

This guy was the ultimate bad boy. He was the skater that I watched glide down the street on his board. He barely spoke to me, but I found him intriguing. He smoked weed non-stop, but I still found myself oddly attracted to him. It wasn’t until almost a year later that I even realized just how horrible of a person he truly was. The truth is, he’s done so much damage to me, mentally and emotionally, that I can’t even recall the first time he choked me, or belittled me, or threw me up against a wall. I was young. I was only thirteen when we met. I never knew that what he was doing was wrong. In fact, because I was the food girl, I found his abuse to be attractive. I thought it was something that turned me on.

I know what you’re all thinking: where were my friends and family while this all occurred? My family had very much expressed that they were not happy with the guy I had chosen, however, they were not aware of the details of the situation. My friends also knew very little other than what they had viewed when he was around me. My friends had watched him drag me through the halls. They had even seen me slap him after he had tied to choke me, but because I had always kept a smile on my face they had never known what was truly wrong. Of course they had also expressed their feelings of hatred towards him, but the truth is, no matter whether you’re a friend or family member, you can’t help someone if they don’t want to be helped…and I didn’t want to be.

I didn’t want to be helped because I truly believed that I loved him and that I was IN love with him. However, I realized two years later that his abuse had mentally trained me to believe that only he could make me happy, even though he had only made me mad.

This is for each and every girl that believes a man could never put his hands on her. If you’re reading my blog, then you know me as this super tough girl who doesn’t take any nonsense. I’m always ready to fight and I ALWAYS say what is on my mind despite possibly hurting someone’s feelings. I am this way though because of him…because of all the abuse he put me through therefore, I write this blog challenging everyone to speak their minds and never let another person put you down. And to those of you who are still stuck in an abusive relationship whether it be physical or mental, I hope you fight back to tell him that he no longer controls you.


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