I was in an abusive relationship for almost two years. I genuinely believed that we were in love and he was just making up rules and being controlling because he loved and cared about me. He tried to change who I was and I thought he was trying to help me.

This is NOT the case. Anyone who manipulates you into doing something you don’t want to do does NOT want the best for you – they are selfish and they don’t care about what you want at all.

Sure, sometimes an abusive relationship can be filled with love and happy memories and you’ll think all the bad times are worth it. THE BAD TIMES ARE NOT WORTH THE “LOVE” YOU THINK THEY ARE SHOWING YOU. An abuser is manipulative and they know every trick in the book to get you to stay with them.

I was told who I had to be. I thought I could be that person. I was told what to wear, what to say, where to go, who to hang out with, and what to do with my life. He controlled my life and I let him because I thought I was in love and nothing else mattered.

When I fought for my basic rights, when I fought for my old life back, when I fought for myself, he would get mad and call me awful, unjust names and on occasion HIT or PUNCH or STRANGLE or SPIT ON me. I lied about every single bruise I ever got. I lied to the people who truly cared about me.

He tried to get me to believe that the physical violence was my fault and that I deserved it for disrespecting the rules because I should respect what he wants me to do and I had to do it, no questions asked. I always knew I never deserved that. But I loved him. I stayed with him. No questions asked.

Two weeks ago my parents went out of town so I invited him over. It was like any normal night. Netflix, games, small conversation. And then something set him off and I was transformed into a human punching bag. He punched me in the stomach. He hit me across the face. I was bleeding and I was begging him to stop. He threw me against the wall and punched me over and over and over again. He shoved his fingers down my throat while his other hand was around my neck strangling me. I couldn’t breath but I somehow managed to shout out “I love you”!

Two years of this hopeless endeavor and I wanted to die. Everyday I woke up and wanted to die. He told me to get over it. Grow up. Deal with it.

I tried to kill myself in April. He took me to the hospital. “I hate you”, he screamed at me in the car on the way there. “I love you”, he said to me as the nurse took my blood. I was tired of pretending to be in love. He didn’t love me.

One day I didn’t answer him the way he wanted to be answered. He hit me in the face. He tore my shirt. I hid in the bathroom. “I can’t tell you what love is, but I can tell you what it isn’t”. My best friend said these words to me as I cried on the phone. I left the bathroom and faced him. Did I love him? He took me into his arms and apologized. He cried for forgiveness. Yes, I love him.

I thought our happy moments were really worth all this pain.

I know now how wrong I was.

The last straw for me was when he cheated on me. Multiple times. And it was somehow my fault.