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My fight started in the hands of the brutal. The fight, however, was between me and myself. For no logical reason, I have endured belittlement. I said, for the sake of hope. Other times, I said, for the sake of love.. But neither was my savior, not hope.. not love.
"No matter how much I had occupied myself even previously" (Hitler, 1925), my wounds never seemed to be mended but by that who belittled me.
At least that was how I thought my situation was. I felt the obligation to be held hostage by uncertainty and confusion.
Here is the story..
I
In an unlucky morning, I woke up feeling agitated and needy. I wanted someone I could tell my story to. And there he was, that someone who gave me a more painful story to never talk about.
He was vague but considerate; he made me feel welcome at any time. There were always boundaries between us that he seemed to respect, for I had psychological issues that he knew nothing of at the start. I knew, however, that he began to recognize the extremity and unusualness in my personality. So, I decided to tell him about the things I was least comfortable with. I told him about my imaginations, my fears, my antipathies and all the embarrassing things about me. I told him all about my weaknesses.
Those things were the reason I never committed myself completely to a man. I always felt incomplete, incapable, unloved, and intolerable.. I thought I was better off just alone, but, again, I did not enjoy loneliness.
II
He knew me well, except I knew nothing at all about him.
He was not a friend, I never knew what he was. He was like a priest in a confession cell who I would regularly visit. I knew it was safe to speak to him, I knew talking to him offered me relief and peace, but I never knew what days could turn into.
III
A year passed and I never met that person. However, I started to feel like he was the correction to all the psychological messes that my mind was made of. I felt being with him was the only way that could lead to self-advancement and peace of mind. I was very wrong.
IV
I developed this thought in my mind - that I was in love with him but I should not be in love with him. That simple thought could kill me. I, however, did not rush. I remained calm, knowing I might lose my one-chance at something new that could also renew me.
V
It took him one year to start opening up to me. He told me about the one thing that hurt him the most in life and that he did not ever grow out of it. He then began to acknowledge things about me that are hard for others to recognize. He took his baby steps towards my heart. His interest in me was clear, but his commitment to me was out of the picture.
VI
Let's skip the background, for all the good things stopped mattering.
Two years passed while I was kept hanging. It seemed like he dominated my life and tailored my fate. He stimulated my feelings willingly, but without the intention to love me. I was foolish. I thought that he might be waiting for the right time. But what right time could not possibly happen in two long years?
I started to speak, to tell him how I feel. Sometimes, he would completely ignore me or even avoid me. Sometimes, he would bluntly tell me "I do not love you, don't wait for it." Other times, he would ask me out on a date. He would also tell me that I was the only person capable of making him forget his deep-seated pains. Sometimes, he would simply talk to me like I was the reason he was alive. But at all times, he was mentally abusing me and emotionally tearing me apart, because of simply one reason: he never verbalized his thoughts to make things clear to me.
VII
I never told him how hurt I was. In fact, I was always there for him - doing what he wanted. When he wanted me to be a friend, I was that friend. When he wanted me to be his lover, I went on a date with him. When he wanted me to be his enemy, I would keep a distance. And when he wanted to hurt me, I was always there.
It was wrong of me to make him feel powerful. I boosted his ego by satisfying his selfish nature. It could get worse sometimes; he would tell me what to do and what not to do.. who to talk to and who not to talk to.. who to be and who not to be..
In short, I was his own puppet.
He would call me to only talk about my weaknesses and joke about them; telling me that I should seek help. Funny because he was the one that used to help me overcome my struggles. He even accused me of making stories up for I wanted a chance "to attach him to me." He would also state my flaws, one by one, to make me feel naked and undermined.
VIII
He was the one lacking stability, I just could not realize that. He did what he did because he was maimed and ruined; wanting to devastate someone else. He was passive-aggressive and domineering. As for me, to fuel my patience, I took mood-stabilizers, chopped my hair occasionally, and more disappointingly, I tried committing suicide. It was not only about him; an uncertain relationship with a controlling person. It was more about me and the way I felt. I was humiliated and degraded. All the issues I faced before knowing him started to double. And I thought I should tell him about the suicide attempt - to maybe waken his conscience, and when I did, he was just angry. Angry because I did it and not angry because he was the reason I did it.
IX
I stopped wanting to depend on the little hope I had left; my hope that I would one day be what I want to be with him, without such complications. The hope that he would tell me he loved me to make all the crazy things worth fighting for. The hope that he would stop treating me like property.
The day did come.. but remained just for a while.
X
He was acting unusually. His emotions were running high, his words were strange, and his tone was different. It baffled me, but, at that moment, I was sick of all the mazes he forced me into. I wanted him to let me go. It was indeed an impulsive decision, but it was the most appropriate one. I told him to do whatever made him happy because at that point I could not possibly tolerate his domineering nature.
XI
He sounded hesitant and it took him a while to finally say it. He told me he loved me, and no happiness could be compared to mine. I forgot I ever suffered with his behavior. I believed we could both begin a new clean chapter. But that chapter we started was dirtier than any other.
XII
He betrayed me and I knew it. The only difference it made is that he did not know I knew it. He would simply ditch me on days we were supposed to be together. Talk less to me. And then give me silly excuses. This made things worse for me, but I refused to give up on him. I foolishly thought that our relation was bound to last. I was delusional, until he confronted me. He concealed all his corruptness and inhumanness in one sentence: "I do not see a future with you."
And after that, I swore to never believe in an empty dream.
XIII
Anyone hearing my story would think I overdid it. I should not have walked the extra mile for someone who was on the fence; not wanting to let me in and not willing to let me go. It was not easy to exit such suffocating cell and expect to instantly adapt myself to the outside-world.
Anyone hearing my story would think I overdid it. I should not have walked the extra mile for someone who was on the fence; not wanting to let me in and not willing to let me go. It was not easy to exit such suffocating cell and expect to instantly adapt myself to the outside-world.
After a while, I was afraid I could never recover from the state he put me in. For the most part, I did recover. Yet, a woman who was once belittled would always carry her pain. If she was wise, she would bury it. If she was wild, she would turn it into aversion. If she was kind, she would forget it. If she was strong, she would embrace it. And I have become both strong and wild, for to be hurt is one thing and to be humiliated is another.
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