"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."- Eleanor Roosevelt
Keeping this famous quote in mind, I was 17 and a senior in high school when my boyfriend at the time, a freshmen (I know! That should have been my first clue!) told me that he thought I was chubby. Being a girl of that age and never really having a self-esteem, of course I believed him.
So I stopped eating. But he loved me and he was just looking out for me. These were only a few of the excuses I offered up to all the true friends I had when they kept telling me he was no good for me and that they were worried about me.
Donald was a very jealous guy. I couldn't even look at any of my guy friends around him, let alone talk to them. He would get so upset and make me feel like I was a slut. I remember one time when we were in band class and a friend of mine (a guy) was making faces at me so I jokingly made a face back. I turned around and Donald was staring bullets at me. It actually made me cringe. After class, he later told me that he didn't want me talking to this friend of mine anymore. I was so torn. John had been a friend of mine for several years and I wasn't about to let go of that friendship...but I loved Donald and he loved me, so what was I supposed to do?
My friends continued to worry about me as they watched my self-esteem deteriorate along with what little extra pounds I had to lose. But I still stuck by this guy because "he was all I had". this was the beginning of a long series of guys who treated me badly. He was one of many who was very disturbed and need help. And of course me being someone who likes to solve people's problems, wanted to reach out and help and "fix" him. I was constantly reaching out to losers like this who refused to accept that they need help and thrived on making those who cared about them miserable. In fact, it's not until somewhat recently that I stopped trying to fix everything and realized that it is not my job to solve everyone's problems. Though, I have to admit, I do still struggle at times.
There was a time in Donald's and my relationship where I was beginning to see and feel all of the things that everyone else had seen and felt at the beginning. But I felt trapped. I didn't know how to end it on a positive note and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. So I did what every teenage girl does when she's in a bind...I tried breaking up with him over the phone. This way, I didn't have to see his pain and I didn't risk the chance of feeling so guilty and losing my courage to end it.
I'm not exactly sure how it happened. But as I tried to break up with him over the phone, he began saying horrible things that I have sense forgotten and made me feel like the guilty party. By the end of the conversation, I was begging for his forgiveness and asking him to take me back. He refused unless I could find some way to make it up to him. It was late. And I remember that my Dad was still up. He took one look at me with the phone clutched in my hand and tears streaking down my face and I could see the hurt in his eyes. It wasn't until later that I understood what he was hurting over. I asked him if it would be ok if I went over to Donald's house for a little while because we had had a fight and I needed to talk to him face to face. Reluctantly, my Dad said "ok" and told me to give Donald a message from him "he owes me".
I got in my car and dialed Donald's number on my cell phone and told him I was on the way. He then proceeded to tell me to park at the end of his long drive way so that his parent's wouldn't see my car. I asked him if he could meet me because it was dark and I was scared to walk alone. He said:
"No."
I thought I deserved that so I drove to his house. Parked the car at the end of the drive and walked the long distance to get to his house. I knew he wouldn't want me to come in the front door so I went to his bedroom window and knocked. He opened it and helped me in, saying something about how I felt a little heavy. The only other thing I remember about that night is how hard I was crying and how mean he looked and how much I begged for him to take me back. I don't remember how long I was there or what he said exactly but I do remember crawling back out of the window and waling back to my car. Alone. But still having a boyfriend.
Pathetic. Right? Yeah. I know. But I was a different person then and it took me a long time to grow out of that.
Donald and I dated for several more months and he continues to tell me he didn't approve of my friends and notice my flaws. When the time arose for the annual senior party, I was so excited about getting all dressed up and going to a dance, but he told me I couldn't go with anyone. Him being a freshmen, he wasn't allowed to go. He almost talked me out of going at all, but my friends wouldn't have it. I remember being there and dancing and having so much fun. One of my really good friends at the time, his name was Brent, told me how pretty I looked and made the effort to call Donald to let him know that I looked so nice and that I wished he was there to dance with me. Of course Donald took it the wrong way, but at the point I didn't care. I wasn't going to let anyone ruin this special night. So I danced. And I had fun. But something in me still felt guilty. Something clicked.
This isn't normal. This has to stop.
I don't remember the gory details. But I do remember that it was a struggle getting rid of Donald. I did finally break up with him a few months after the senior party and suddenly it was him meeting me at my locker, begging for his forgiveness. It was suddenly him who was sitting kneeled down beside me at the lunch table I always sat at, telling me how it looked like I had lost more weight.
One afternoon. I was getting ready to leave when I turned around and he was there. Crying and throwing a fit. I told him to leave me alone and then I noticed that his nose was gushing blood. I freaked out and got him a lot of tissue and sat with him until it stopped. At this point, he had missed his bus so I offered to drive him home. It was impossible for me to separate myself from him completely because for some strange reason, I still wanted to help him. I still wanted to be there for him, even if he had never been there for me. This was something I struggled with every day.
Then I broke. I don't know what did it exactly but I had had enough. I had kept my calm for too long and he had crossed the line.
It was a normal day. i was sitting at lunch with my friends when he came up to me and sat on the floor beside me. I tried to ignore him but he continued to sit there and taunt me. I told him to go away and we would talk later and yet he stayed. The bell rang. I got up to throw my trash away and he followed me. I started walking faster to get away from him and he continued to pick up speed. I stopped. Turned around and suddenly had a voice.
"WHAT!!!! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME!!!!?!!!"
The whole lunch room grew quiet and everyone was staring. But it was just me and him. This was our fight.
"I HATE YOU!" He yelled.
"GOOD!!! MAYBE NOW YOU"LL START LEAVING ME ALONE!!!" I walked away and didn't look back. No longer was I going to allow this guy to make me feel sorry for him or to make me feel guilty for things that were not my fault. I was done and I wasn't going to do it any more. More importantly,
I was free.
He knew I was done. And he just stopped. He stopped meeting me at my locker. He stopped following me. he stopped talking to me. He stopped.
And I lived on and made it through. My first life lesson that love isn't always fairytales and day dreams. Sometimes love is a whole different meaning. A whole different word that hasn't been found yet. Sometimes love is unexplainable. And you just have to let it go.
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