LSCOTTPHOTOS Learning to Love (The Hard Way) - Project Positivity Challenge #1

If you stop and think about it, human beings are extremely resilient creatures. We mourn the loss of loved ones yet continue living through the pain and sorrow. We may lose a limb or break a bone but we heal and continue moving forward. We stand back up after falling and try again. 

I did not learn how strong and resilient of a woman I was until I faced two of the most difficult and devastating trials of my life –depression and emotional abuse.  

I was diagnosed with depression in high school but managed to keep it under control through my first two years of studying theatre in college.  

Then the medications stopped working and things took a turn for the worse.  I dropped out of college and moved back in with my parents as I struggled to regain my health. I pushed away all of my friends and shut myself in my childhood bedroom. I thought things couldn’t get worse but boy was I wrong. 

One day, sitting at my favorite coffee shop, I caught sight of the cutest barista. I blushed when he slid my latte across the counter and almost fainted when he asked me on a date. With little relationship experience (I had never even been kissed before), I quickly fell in love.  

As every story goes, things started off wonderfully. Never before had I felt closer or more intimate with a man. I saw the world through rose tinted glasses. Perhaps that is why it took me so long to understand our relationship was not as great as it seemed.  

To be fair, I want to make sure you all know he struggled with mental problems as well including depression. But I've come to terms with the fact that it is no excuse for the way he treated me.   

For two years I suffered without realizing the effect he had on my life.   

He yelled at me for unfolding a blanket.  

He reprimanded me for using a dishtowel to dry dishes.  

He made fun of everything I said until I spent hours in silence and soon stopped talking altogether. 

He laughed and dismissed my emotions when I confessed I loved him. 

He forgot he took my virginity and shrugged his shoulders with casual indifference when I showed surprise.  

He called me bitch. He called me cunt. He called me every foul word you can imagine.

But worst of all, as he sat as his kitchen table with the needle of heroin stuck in his vein, his glazed eyes looked at me and he laughed.  

"You're going to need therapy after knowing me!"   

When I finally gathered up the courage to say enough was enough, he said GOOD RIDDANCE. 

Forcing him out of my life was the smartest decision I've ever made but it was hard. You can't choose who you fall in love with even if they do not deserve it. But I struggled for months afterwards... unable to even think intimate thoughts without inducing a panic attack and experiencing terrible PTSD symptoms. His words followed me, echoing in my thoughts, until I almost went crazy. 

But then one day with crystal clarity, I realized that everything was going to be okay. I understood that the experience was a part of my life I couldn't forget or ignore so I decided to accept it and move on. I got a small heart tattoo on my right hand ring finger as a representation of my past love for him and my acceptance of that fact. But it wasn’t enough. I needed one final step… a conclusion to my story. 

So I began to write. I sat down with paper and pen and the words simply poured out of me.  

Prologue 

A cloud of smoke hit my face when I yanked the door of the Chevy open. I coughed at the taste of stale cigarettes as I fumbled with my icy keys and jammed them into the ignition. My curses slurred. Really, this was the cherry on top of my night. There was no way my parents wouldn’t smell what happened in their truck and I knew they wouldn’t be happy. 

I threw the gear into reverse and hit the gas, listening to the snow crunch under the tires as I peeled from the tiny parking spot. The old truck slide on a patch of ice when I got to the road, but I punched the four-wheel drive and sped up. I wanted to be away from this shitty apartment and its sole occupant as fast as possible.

I squinted through the frosty windshield as I made my way through town, keeping an especially wary eye out for cops. The taste of vodka sat in the back of my throat, as sharp and pungent as my anger. This was not the time to get pulled over. 

The red light at an intersection glared through the pitch-black night as I slowly rolled to a stop, the only car in sight. I sighed as I impatiently waited, drumming my frozen fingers on the wheel. 

Ping!

I glanced down at my phone and felt my heart drop. Bracing myself, I opened the message. I knew him well enough by now to know it wasn’t going to be exactly friendly, yet the venom in his words still took me by surprise. 

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME. NOT EVEN A WORD. I SWEAR TO GOD, ONE WORD AND I WILL BLOCK YOUR NUMBER. I DON’T NEED YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD ABOUT MYSELF. I’M NOT THE BAD GUY HERE! YOU’RE THE ONE ACTING LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT! I mean it... say one word… I’ll message you when I want to talk again.”   

I threw my phone and let it clatter to the floor, both the screen and his words glowing dully up at me from the dark. How the hell did we get here? I thought. No… how the hell did I get here?  

I breathed a sigh of relief as the tension loosened in my shoulders. This… this is what I needed to do. I needed to write about my experience. I needed to show every little gritty detail the light of day.   

So I am extremely proud and apprehensive to announce that I am in the (slow) process of writing an ebook about my experience. 

I still struggle some days. I wish I could wrap everything up in a tidy little bow and say everything is perfect. It’s hard to move on from such a devastating experience exacerbated by mental illness.  

But I’m not doing half bad… because I’m a pretty damn resilient human being with a pen in her hand (and a much kinder boyfriend by her side). 

Thank you for listening to my story! All images are of me at different times in my life corresponding with the story.  

Pieces of this article were copied from an older post of mine for the Tattoo Story Contest.

 Upvote if you enjoyed my story (and the sneak peak of Learning to Love’s prologue)! 

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