I wrote this letter below to myself addressed to my ex during my recent journey of healing. In counseling working on gaining more coping skills for my anxiety and depression. And after reading it out-loud coming to terms that I was abused and even though I don’t like labels, realizing I am like so many a survivor of DV. And that my body still holds the trauma. In counseling, we took time to assign the power and control wheel. I have not shared this, not even with my family. I have been hesitant to do so still holding so much shame. Hoping sharing this piece of my healing journey may help someone else.
Dear ex fiancé
Let me first say that I am so thankful you will never read this nor touch me ever again.
You are so lucky to have had me in your life. I loved you and I made every effort, as I saw you as my forever.
Now I recognize that what we had was not love. At least it was never mutual love. You showed me a lot of disrespect.
I am very appreciative that you showed me your full true colors, and I never married you. I told people for years casually that the reason it did not work was “our values just didn’t align.”
Though that skirted and minimized the actual reason why. I was hurt physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually in the three and a half years living with you.
I blamed God for bringing you into my life, and putting me through the hell.
Six years after leaving, I am healing and finding my true self.
Finally confronting the traumatic memories I have repressed and forgotten.
And finally making my amends with God asking daily for continued forgiveness and guidance.
While also remembering to thank God for surrounding me with helpers and loved ones.
I am trying to find compassion for myself, while holding all the shame, resentment, and blame.
Forgiving my less wise self that did not have the awareness of the conditioning and manipulation that kept me there.
I am learning how to set boundaries, communicate my needs, and not stay invisible.
I feel so responsible and ashamed that I stayed so long, kept everything quiet, and never spoke out.
I protected my family, friends, and myself the best I could in the moment from your rage.
As you tried to isolate me from my loved ones, claiming they did not care for me and had bad qualities.
I continued to construct a narrative that we were a happy couple. That I had my fairytale.
Using the limited examples of when you were charming and made me believe you actually loved me.
But most times, you made me feel like I was crazy and broken.
I drove hours to bring you food, to bring you your forgotten wallet, or to keep you company at work.
I drove in bad weather conditions and most of the time I never received a thank you. It was just expected.
That was whenever you did not just take my vehicle. I was never given an option, you just took it. I always felt stranded and you never cared.
Like in bed. You just took and did what you wanted. And got mad when I shut down.
I though did take on all the financial burdens. Including buying engagement rings. And covering all living expenses, especially when your child support was garnished or your employer had accounting issues.
I listened and protected myself as you raged, as you justified your behaviors towards others, and gloated how you just got the upper hand. This included when you were rightfully questioned about harassing a new hire that was female. I wish they would have held you accountable.
I was scared and froze everytime you picked verbal fights with strangers in public. Innocent men that looked at me in a restaurant. Sweet old ladies that looked your way too long.
Each time a stranger gave you the look, I ended up being aggressively led out of the public place and pushed into the car. It was always so disorienting and confusing for me. And you would claim you were protecting me.
Your darkness and anger in your eyes still haunts me.
Those long intimidating stares.
And your practiced quizzical smolder still gives me the creeps.
Similarly I still fear the playful holds that led me to cry as I felt trapped.
Hating your jokes about attacking me, while asking how I would escape. Reminding me you had a physical advantage.
Your temper tantrums storming ahead and giving me the silent treatment, was very juvenile. And everytime I had to endure your anger outburst after and erratic driving.
I tried to stay calm and empathic of your reactions while being trapped in our apartment elevator. Though you took it too far, including punching walls once we got out.
The same type of redirected punch that you would later do when frustrated with me. As you positioned me against a wall yelling and punching the wall next to my head.
Continually calling me crazy, and saying often that people are institutionalized for less was not okay.
That I was never right and always experienced everything wrong.
That I was making things up and had an overactive imagination. Including your refusal and defensiveness when I asked you to keep your personal weapon that you purchased for work, at work.
Though in hindsight, this moment led to my final decision that I had to physically leave. I did not trust you and was afraid of your unstable behavior. I no longer felt I knew you at all.
The constant name calling and underhanded comments through the relationship was very targeted. “You stupid cold hearted bitch. You just care about your career. You don’t have the homemaker skills to be a wife or mother.”
You are very skilled at projecting, lying, and gaslighting.
It was not okay that you sped up and chased both my mom and I separately down while you saw us driving.
Or lied to me about out of state travel to cheat on me with another woman. To use my credit card to take her on dates. And then to text saying you made the decision to move in with her.
Which you then switched to saying you were confused and wanted to be with me. How is this even possible? You always made snap decisions in the moment and never considered the future consequences or opportunity.
Words were cheap to you. Promising you would still financially support and pay your debts back to me. When in fact you did not pay the cell phone bill for months.
Which to be in a situation where a male call center representative, 6 months after our breakup, was ready to make a call to protect me from you told me a lot. He pressed me to verbally acknowledge I was currently in a safe environment. He told me you were unhinged and dangerous.
You scare me. And it took a stranger on the phone to really hit home how unstable you are.
I knew you told a lot of fake or exaggerated stories. In fact there are many things I do not know if they were true. Like if you actually were in the military and deployed at one time. Or if you really were diagnosed with depression and narcissism, and lost solo visitation rights of your child because of abuse.
After our relationship ended, I downplayed the situation. More I needed to believe everything was good. I casually mentioned to a male coworker that I was worried about walking to my car alone. I wanted to know someone would have my back if needed.
I also found I was messaging a trusted former coach of mine that is a good male friend, during the end of the relationship, asking if I was in fact crazy and over reacting often to things you were saying and doing. Each response came back similar to “you are not crazy and what is happening to you right now is not normal and it’s not okay.”
Planning a wedding with you was impossible. Your outbursts at me when I asked for us to set time aside to discuss left me bewildered. And placed me in an even more awkward and defensive position with my family and friends.
I prayed to God at Christmas mass to help me through. I felt conflicted and stressed out. I knew it was the right thing to marry you. After all, we had lived together for three years at that time. Though you kept acting so aloof.
I kept telling everyone as months went by with no set plans, and more pressure from family, that we were just enjoying the excitement of being engaged. You would act all gitty when someone commented you were wearing a band too. But things at home just kept getting worse.
You gave me more silent treatments, blocked me from talking to you, and gamed more with even more anger that would wake me up at night.
I was starting to come to the conclusion you did not want to be with me. Then one day, you found a townhouse. Rent was similar and it would allow us more space without being in an apartment. You led and did all the work. The act renewed my faith in you that you saw a future with me as we signed a new lease.
But the life at the new place was worse yet. You were an even different person. I would express the need for attention and comfort, and you would tell me to hug a pillow. There was no emotional support. And we never just chatted anymore.
I found I was starting to act out in childish ways. Which was very out of character for me. One night I found myself playing with the light switch while you gamed just to push your buttons. Which it did get your attention, but not in the fun way I had hoped. You came at me physically while screaming. You threw me into the other room and told me to stop.
After I cried myself to sleep, you would again turn on your charm the next few days reassuring me that you loved me. Telling me you became a different person when you gamed as it was your release. We would go out to eat and you would act like the person I first met.
You were talented at chipping away at my confidence and making me self-doubt everything. I believed everything you did and said. Even the trusted mentor advice I did not believe. We were to be married. You must have good intentions for me and love me.
I went back to you once after I left. That was the dumbest thing I have done in my life. I soon felt vulnerable, trapped, and afraid for my life. You were on such highs and lows, with every emotion. I realized at that moment you thought I belonged to you.
I turned on my protective fawning response and tried to soothe you. Though my brain internally was screaming leave. Figure out how to leave now.
Even working to unlock and process memories from our time together, especially at the townhouse at the end, I still have a lot of gaps. During my healing journey while processing, I wanted to return to the townhouse and see if anything new came up. I found I could not even remember how to get to our once home.
After spending a half hour trying to find the rental units on Google, I finally was able to make my way there. I stopped on the main road and looked over at what would have been our home. All the panic and darkness came over me. I do not know how long I blacked out, but I put the car in park and just leaned back.
During our relationship and during the breakup, I did not want to make things worse. I did not want to create unnecessary drama. I did not want to fight. I wanted to stay invisible. And I wanted to pretend nothing bothered me and I was a productive individual that still had purpose.
My parents were also quick to reassure me that everything was fine. That you did not have a history of violence. And that I was welcome at the house. When I had moments of weakness and expressed that I should go back to you, I was reminded that you made the initial decision to move out, even if it was taking you over a month.
Though they also appeased me by moving the spare house key. They did not know what I knew. And I never shared details. I was ashamed and I was in denial. And I did not have the energy nor words to defend myself. After all, I continued to tell the story of everything was good throughout all stages of our relationship.
And when my parents finally did express anger towards you, I was quick to say it was not worth it. I had been living with enough anger and that was enough to manage. But behind the anger, I was sad, confused, let down, fearful, and full of shame. And most importantly I would not allow my support network to be placed in a dangerous situation. I saw how you became different people, and I was terrified of the next person that would come out.
Years later I continued to refuse to bring up stories or memories of our time together and what happened. Similar to all my belongings that were put into a locked storage shed, I locked away all memories of us. I refused to go to the actual storage shed for years, only stopping in to pay the rent. And I got angry at anyone that brought you up, refusing to talk about you.
Though my body remembers. I still find myself hypervigilant in some environments, and I have become aware of a lot of triggers. I continue to struggle with regulating my emotions now that I have opened the floodgate. I have moments of crying or anger outbursts. A new experience for me that I keep trying to give myself compassion as medical professions tell me this is part of the mental health healing journey.
It sickens me that I gave you so much empathy and looked the other way so often. To the point I could no longer manage and spent entire weekends staring at walls. Or zoned out sitting in my car staring at the floor mat. No emotions and just waiting. Waiting for my body to come back online. Waiting for you to be caring.
And the irony of the situation is that now that I am healing and becoming present and aware for the first time in my life, I am struggling to give just a fragment of the empathy and compassion to myself that I continuously offered you.
It still terrifies me that you open carry for work. That you drive a vehicle labeled security. And that you continue the cycle of finding women that you can play hero and then control.
My memories and feelings are now fleeting reminders of never again.
I am starting to have compassion and not fear my body’s protective responses. In fact, I find comfort in knowing my body kept me safe from you.
And I am reminded of how I immediately coped by taking back control of my body by getting a tattoo, finding my power at a kickboxing gym, and learning how to find calm on the hiking trail.
The stronger woman that you will never know that finds peace in God remembering and knowing all. By survivor
