Destruction in disguise

Strange that our most creative and productive days come on our worst mental health days. I have been sick to my stomach for no reason all morning.

Somedays I keep myself busy enough that I don’t even think about him, and other days I wake up sick. My stomach in knots, chest tight, can’t escape the weight of his energy on my soul.

His dark, toxic energy lingers. Everyone can feel it. It has a weight to it that’s undeniable.

I washed everything, thinking I could cleanse my home of his presence. I hate it there now. Even though I know he won’t, every morning I rehearse what I would say to him if I had the chance. If he did pop up again.

I know arguing with him is pointless, because he will never be at fault for anything in his mind. So why do I crave confrontation with him so much? Why must my brain remain fixed on proving a point to him? I know he’s not well, so why is there a part of me that still feels like what he has to say matters?

Everything hurts today. I’ve tried my diaphragmatic breathing, and it provides temporary relief, but the tightness in my chest is constant right now. I just feel sad. I can’t focus on anything. Can’t think of anything that actually sounds fun to do right now. I just want to curl up in my blanket and pretend the world doesn’t exist for a little while until I snap out of this funk.

But what if I don’t snap out of it? I’ve never felt like this before. Not to this extent. I’ve tossed the D-word around once or twice before, but this is full-blown, all-caps DEPRESSION. And I’m scared. I’m afraid of the way I’m feeling right now, and I can’t even tell you exactly why I feel the way I do.

I know the things he said about me aren’t true. I know I’m not a reckless, selfish, two-faced, weak, stupid, promiscuous person. So why am I having such a hard time convincing myself that I’m not lately? WHY do I need convincing at all? I never used to be like this.

I never used to feel like this, and now I don’t know how to turn it off.

I’m scared. I’m not okay. I need a break. I need out.

He came out of the gate so strong. He was saying all of the right things. He was affectionate, couldn’t keep his hands off of me no matter who was watching, he showed up to my appointments with flowers. He wrote me poems while I was at work.

The poem read, “It’s lunchtime and no text from her! Well, I hope her day is as pleasant as her aura. Caty is her name but yet beauty would be better. Yet, I know Belle she’d prefer just to see my tongue lust over her every time I said it…I miss her and from this, she knows it. Hoping this brought a smile to her face. I guarantee it, in fact, I know it.”

It wasn’t always bad. And the good days were really good. Some of the best I’d ever had…

They were too good. And I should’ve known better. How could I let my guard down so completely?

I don’t want to carry this pain anymore. I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of battling with all of the intrusive seeds he planted when he invaded my heart. I am emotionally and physically drained from trying to understand what happened. How it happened so fast. And how I allowed one person, one opportunistic stranger, to destroy my peace so completely.

This is an open letter to my abuser.

You were so calculated. Every gesture, every beautiful moment, was strategic.

You studied me so you could manipulate me. You found every single nerve and strummed the chords of each insecurity until you broke me down with your charming, toxic melodies.

The craziest thing is, half the time I didn’t realize how awful the things were that you said to me because you were so sure each time. And you’d say them in such a matter-of-fact, calm way. Like there was no way I could possibly question you…so I didn’t.

You would disrespect me in the strangest ways, masking your abuse as candor.

You looked me in the eye and said to me in your most reassuring tone, “it’s okay, you are weak now but I am going to make you strong.”

That is when I realized he had been planting these seeds of self-doubt in me for some time, already. You found your way into almost every part of my day. You moved into my apartment saying it was “only temporary,” and “I can leave anytime. You’re not doing me any favors.”

Oh, really? Do I not let you drive my car? Are you not sleeping in my bed every night? Do I not cook you breakfast every morning and dinner every night?

You made me feel like I needed you to fix me. Like you were my only hope of becoming worthy. But worthy of what, exactly?

Your love? Your “Godliness” that you insisted couldn’t be found anywhere else?

I literally gave you a roof over your head, a pillow to sleep on at night, and three meals a day. But I’m still somehow the one that needs you?

I was so confused. I think the confusion was the most unsettling. Not knowing whether what I was feeling was authentic or just a byproduct of your scrutiny.

We spent every moment of every day together, so I had no time to myself to process the things you were doing to me. And each moment we spent together, you spent criticizing every move I made.

You criticized the way I dress. Everything I said. The way I eat. The choices I made. Everything I did was stupid, weak, or wrong. Never good enough. How would I ever be good enough for you? How was I ever going to prove to you that I’m not all of these things you keep telling me that I am?

We don’t even know each other. How are you going to tell me about myself, like it’s an undeniable fact? And why, in the name of all that is holy, did I believe you?

I don’t even know how much of me really had genuine feelings for you and how much of me just became obsessed with proving you wrong. I knew I was none of the things you called me, so why did I feel the need to convince you of that? Why was the thought of you thinking less of me so nauseating?

By the time I realized what you were doing to me, it felt like it was too late. You had already drained me. I didn’t have the energy to fight for myself because I was so exhausted from trying to prove my worth. Never again.

It was the perfect storm.

You chose me, in my most vulnerable state, and convinced me I would be nothing without you.

And I let you.