I’ve always known I was too damn smart to get stuck in an abusive relationship. If I spotted the manipulation, it couldn’t affect me. I was too perceptive to be controlled, too aware to let someone get the better of me, and yet I’ve spent several months having my self-worth chipped away one piece at a time, and leaving was a struggle that I still barely understand.
I knew what was happening. His psychological abuse was not exactly covert, and yet I kept trying to fix it, kept taking all the blame onto my own shoulders. Every time I managed to leave, I went back. I told my friends how many mistakes I made. I developed a hundred ways of taking on all the blame. Self-awareness has its downfalls in a relationship like that. I knew all my flaws, and if I could just become perfect, it would mend every bridge. I could earn love if I could just change enough.
I was told that no man would ever be good enough for my impossible standards. I believed him.
I existed in his world according to his rules. My identity went onto the pile alongside my dignity and self-esteem. I was trained to behave like a good rescue dog: never bark, always sit when told, greet every cruelty with loyalty and obedience. What I struggled to learn was how to be silenced. For the longest time, I used my voice, even when I was scared to. That was my greatest downfall. You don’t speak your truth unless you’re willing to accept the rage that follows, and so ultimately I lost the courage to speak up.
The Crow Diaries 