What if I do miss him?
by Max J
So what if I do miss him? What if I sometimes imagine if we were still together? How sickening is that?
So what if he locked me up in the car because I didn't tell him I was going out with my friends, because god forbid I go out anywhere without him? So what if I once broke my hand punching him back because he wouldn't stop screaming and yelling, and he wouldn't let me leave him? So what if he made me cry on our engagement eve because my cousin had his arm around me during out photo shoot? Does it really matter that his mother kept insulting my mum during family dinners because she never approved me? Does it matter that his folks kept criticizing me, the way I talk, the way I dress, the way I laugh?
Was it a deal breaker when he forced me into having sex with him when I couldn't even stand looking him in the eye? Or is it a deal breaker when he became obsessively jealous whenever I talked to a friend or even hinted that I wanted to attend a friend's birthday party?
Maybe I have missed the good times we had together despite the fact that they were ALWAYS followed with tears?
He was the first man I ever loved with I was 15, the only man I have ever slept with, been with, got engaged to. As a gay woman, a golden lesbian, falling in love with a man it was already difficult. He never made it easy for me. Every woman is a suspect. Every woman is a potential affair. Everyone is a danger to our relationship, so he locked me in.
Wasn't it normal that he laid hands on me a couple times? That he kept screaming at me and fighting me over the silliest things? Wasn't it normal that every time we were together I ended up crying, he apologizes till the sun comes up and I take him back?
I lay in bed and think to myself of all the possibilities, all the fictional scenarios that would have happened hadn't my parents "saved" me from him and did their best to end the engagement.
I hated them for it at first. Then I looked at myself in the mirror; I couldn't recognize myself anymore. I wasn't myself with him. He ordered me to grow my hair, dress more feminine, act more feminine, hold a purse instead of a wallet, lie about who I am, ditch all of my friends.
I lost my best friend because of him. Two of my best friends. No, three of my closest friends I've known for ten years.
I lost who I was as a woman. As a person. As a human being.
Who was I? What was I?
He always said he wouldn't survive if I left him, but last I heard he was very well alive. I was left damaged.
I fell for a man. Why couldn't he have been a good guy? Why did I lie about our sex life and said I enjoyed it?
I hated it. I hated every second of it.
But I miss him sometimes.
I read it was normal. I didn't realize that it was an abusive relationship till a year later after it ended. I thought it was normal. I thought I was the problem, I didn't love him enough or didn't give him enough. I blamed my parents and society for our damaged relationship. I didn't know. I couldn't have known.
I remember once during sex he tied me up and wanted to dust his cigarette in my mouth, I scream and said I don't want to do that. He was upset. Burns scare me. He was very upset I disobeyed him so I apologized. I believe it was my fault that I didn't agree to what he orders.
He was upset when I refused to sleep with him once because he said its never spontaneous for us and that I am not putting much effort into our sex life so I agreed and I cried so much during sex because everything hurts.
Why did I do this to myself? I am stronger than this, I am better than this, I am smarter than this.
For a woman who has an IQ of 142 I was very stupid. He made sure I knew I was very stupid and that he is much smarter than me at all times. I was too fat. Too butch. Too loud. Too independent.
I was myself, but I wasn't good enough so I had to change who I am to please him.
Why did I do this to myself?
Why do I miss him sometimes?
It's been two years now and I still feel like I am unworthy, undeserving, incomplete.
I still cannot recognize myself in the mirror sometimes.
I still hate myself.
I still hate/love him.