It’s been a while y’all and well, I have a few, not-so-good
excuses to give.
1.
Grad school is intense!
2.
Add nursing school to it and it’s almost
impossible. By almost, I mean it is but I’m getting by so I suppose at some
level it’s possible.
3.
I found myself in a whirlwind of relationships
and emotions concerning those guys and Danny. Trust me when I say dating after
the man you promised forever dies is no joke. It’s hard, it’s frustrating, and
it is a million billion times more emotional and stressful than a normal
relationship.
4.
I fell in love …and kind of went crazy!
5.
All hell broke loose.
So please, choose an excuse or combination of them that make
you hate me the least. Forgive me. And let’s get back to the matter at hand.
Just after the first of the year, I met someone who
completely swept me off my feet. As we started talking more and more, I began
to think how charismatic and charming this person is. I couldn’t get enough. I
just couldn’t. I wanted to talk to him every single minute of every single day.
I sound crazy, right? Well, that’s exactly how I felt. The more “swept away” I
felt, the more I began to think that what Danny and I had wasn’t real! How
super insane is that? That man is my absolute world! And he remains that…20
MONTHS after his death! But there I was thinking that my love for him wasn’t
true because I didn’t feel the same.
Corey and I immediately started dating. Forget the friend
zone; forget getting to know one another. We jumped headfirst into the lake. Sink
or swim time! For a while we swam but again, something felt off. Remember, I
just thought this was what real love felt like. Boy, oh boy! I have never been
so wrong in my life!
After we had been dating just a couple months, I learned
some things. Things that I didn’t necessarily like and things that I didn’t
necessarily agree with and things that I definitely didn’t think were
appropriate. I won’t completely call the boy out, but a few minor examples
include his temper, his controlling nature, and his need to demean every other
person around him (and that list included me). Up to this point, he’d never hit
me. He never technically forced me to
do anything. But I had felt coerced into doing things he wanted, when he wanted
them.
I also begin to learn that we wanted completely different
things. Like. I wanted to move to Atlanta and work there; he wanted to stay
where he was. I wanted a large family and kids were mandatory; he wanted things
to be mostly the two of us and just maybe one kid. I want to have fancy dinner
parties and stay in contact with my family and friends; he wanted things to be
mostly the two of us. The more differences I learned, the more I wanted out.
The more I knew things weren’t going to work out. He assured me over and over
than they would and that we’d compromise. After all, if we loved each other we
could make it work, right?
Eventually, I walked away thinking I deserved better. While
I knew I did, something brought me back. Maybe it was his charm or the promises
I believed he’d keep. Whatever it was, I stuck around.
Things were better. He tried really hard to be the person I
wanted him to be … for about a month.
Then. I got sick. He cheated …again. And we’re back to where
we were the first time I left. He charmed me back and as much as I tried to
deny it, I wanted to be with him and I didn’t care what he did.
I lied. For the first time in my whole life, I lied!
“He’s a
good person.”
“He loves
me! I can’t walk away from someone who loves me.”
“I promised
him. I have to follow through on my word.”
“I really
don’t want to be with him.”
“I’m not
going back.”
“He
cheated. That’s it.”
“I’m
serious this time.”
After everything he’d done, I still found myself a few weeks
later sitting on his couch and lying in his bed. This is when all hell broke
loose. And we sank. FAST!
I’m a firm believer in telling your partner everything …even
if it’s going hurt. I believe that in order to truly love one another, you have
to be completely honest and allow the person you love to make his/her own
decisions.
We’re lying there and my phone rings. It’s a text message
from another guy. This man is seriously one of my best friends and we spend a
lot of time together. Corey asked who the text was from and I told him.
Corey gets mad. He screams. He yells. And as much as I tried
to tell him how I felt and explain that he’s obviously the person I chose, he
ignores me. He tells me to get off of him and to leave his house.
That’s what he wants? That’s what he’s going to get.
I packed up my things and started toward the door.
He runs from the back of the house. As I open the door, he
slams it closed and proceeds to bang on the door. He turns around, shoves me
into the couch and starts to scream at me.
I was terrified. The look in his eyes was piercing and rage
was shooting from them.
Finally, he walks away telling me that I should just leave.
Per commands, I leave. And by leave, I mean I got the hell out of there!
If this were the end, maybe I’d have gone back, maybe I
would have justified his anger, and maybe I’d be the girl that got trapped in
this vicious cycle.
Unfortunately, the night didn’t end here.
I got to my car. He runs up behind me. He grabs me around
the waist. He drags me back into his house. It’s probably only 30-40 feet to
his door and the whole time I’m kicking and screaming and trying to get loose.
The whole time, he’s quiet. He grips me harder. His nails dig into my skin. I
can hear him grunting.
We get to his door and he shoves me inside, closes the door,
and locks it. The rage and anger that were in his eyes before has quadrupled.
In that moment, I didn’t think I would make it out alive!
He yells. He screams. He points his finger. He gets in my
face. He pushes me. He walks away and tells me to leave again. As I walk out
the door, he throws a picture frame with the two of us inside. Glass shatters.
I get to my car and I see his shadow coming toward me.
Would a normal person run? Would a normal person scream?
Looking back, all those options were there. But I didn’t. I crouched down as he
threw himself on me.
He backed a few inches and I was able to unlock my car,
which set the alarm off. With the alarm beeping, he let me enter the car and
crank it (the only way to get the alarm to stop). I closed the door immediately
and left before he could hit my car or break my windows.
I got out. I don’t know how, but I did.
He preceded to BLOW UP my phone. He called over and over,
until I blocked his number. He messaged me on Facebook, until I blocked him. He
stalked my Instagram, until I blocked him. He messaged me on Kik, until I just
deleted the app.
Two days after the incident, he hadn’t stopped. He figured
out a way to call on a “no known caller” ID, so his blocked number is irrelevant.
By Friday morning, he had called over 100 times. He then sent me a message
saying he was coming to my apartment. I left, obviously. And then he sent
messages saying he wasn’t leaving until I got home. He did eventually leave …BEFORE I got home.
I spent the rest of the week and the entire weekend looking
over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t there. I felt like a battered woman.
And I realized I wasn’t okay with that.
A man should never make a woman feel this way. He should
never make her fear her life or be scared to live in her own home. I’m grateful
to be out. I’m grateful that things weren’t worse than they were, because I’m
well aware of how much worse it could have been. I only suffered some bruised ribs, a bruised ego, and nail marks, but we've all heard the stories about how these things usually turn out.
I thank God everyday for watching over me that night and
protecting me in ways that no one else could have. After all, he’s the only
person that knew I was there.
I always thought it was strange that I wasn’t allowed to go
anywhere without letting my parents (or someone) knowing where I was going.
Now, I understand.
I always thought it was silly to tell everybody your
business. Now, I understand.
