The term “emotional abuse” is defined as, “Any kind of abuse that is emotional rather than physical in nature. It can include anything from verbal abuse and constant criticism to more subtle tactics, such as intimidation, manipulation, and refusal to ever be pleased. Emotional abuse can take many forms. Three general patterns of abusive behavior include aggressing, denying, and minimizing”; “Withholding is another form of denying. Withholding includes refusing to listen, refusing to communicate, and emotionally withdrawing as punishment.”

I survived an emotionally abusive relationship. If you were reading this, you would say that I was “just being dramatic.” That I was “playing the role of the victim.” That I always played the role of the victim in the conflicts that occurred within our relationship. You constantly told me that I was too much; meaning in your words, that I was more emotional than you possessed the capacity to possibly handle. By repeatedly telling me this, I began to wholeheartedly believe the intense, manipulative power behind those words. This launched a plethora of negative beliefs about myself as a man, and furthermore, my ability to have an authentic sense of confidence within a healthy relationship. I began to view myself as an effortlessly damaged man, someone with an intensely fragile heart that immensely exceeded the volume of my body. I began to feel as though I would never be a part of an intimate relationship where the capacity of my love was reciprocated. You reaped every single potential benefit of an intimate, romantic relationship in existence; yet, when it came down to the label, you indefinitely refused to call me your boyfriend. You would constantly chastise me for speaking openly with my friends and my family about the indefinitely unfair power dynamics that existed between us. It wasn’t that I was wrong, because there is absolutely no doubt in my mind to this day that those dynamics were excruciatingly prominent. You simply could not fathom the idea that what you were putting me through was emotional abuse, and that it was firmly validated by those that loved me. You could not stand the fact that those around me were beginning to see you in a new light; as a person that was capable of exhibiting such psychologically harmful patterns of behavior. You did not sincerely care about the reality of the situation, which was that you were causing someone you claimed to “love” such agonizingly, debilitating psychological pain with both your behaviors as well as your words.

In the beginning, you instantaneously made me feel as though I was special. You showered me with infinite compliments and prioritized me with a sense of the utmost importance. You learned and memorized all of my absolute favorite things as though you were prepared to be quizzed on them sometime in the near future. You opened up to me like a book, yearning to be read and furthermore, to be understood. Longing to have certain lines highlighted and analyzed in the empty spaces next to the paragraphs. You wanted me to love you simply in order to permeate the endless void inside of yourself that could not be filled by your own perception of self-love. You put me up on a pedestal as though I was your God; you worshiped the very ground that I walked on and recited the words I love you to me as you would with scripture. You washed the dirt from my back, told me that I was your beautiful boy, and slept curled up comfortably beside me like a house cat each and every night. You made numerous efforts to initiate close relationships with my friends and my family. You always told them how much you loved and cared for me, as if you knew deep down that they needed convincing. You opened up to your family about your love for me, despite knowing that it could potentially create a divide. You introduced me to your friends and visibly displayed public signs of affection in front of them. However, once it dawned on you how madly in love with you I truly was, the wall that I had cautiously and gradually broken down was immediately built right back up again. You shut me out of your heart completely and shattered mine in the process. I did not know how to handle the loss. I was left feeling totally and utterly blind sighted. And you had the audacity to ask me after my world had done a complete 180 if we could remain friends. You claimed that you still loved me, but that you simply could not meet the expectations that I held. It was not that simple.

Reflecting back on the entirety of our experience together, I should have seen the evidently visible warning signs. The fact that you would willingly let me show you off to the world on social media but kept my presence in your life in the eyes of the world minimal in comparison. The fact that you did not know what it indefinitely felt like to be in love; that you often doubted if you had ever even remotely experienced it. The fact that you left me feeling vulnerable and shamed during some of the most emotionally intense experiences within my life; such as prior to my transitional surgery. The fact that you only seemed to exhibit a sense of strong empathy when it benefited you, rather than supporting me in the genuine way that I did endlessly and tirelessly for you. The fact that you physically assaulted me and used liquor as an excuse for your abusive behavior. The fact that you made jokes about my biological gender identity and always said that it was okay because it was you, because it was you, and you were only kidding. The fact that you love bombed me in the beginning of our relationship only to end it with progressively more damaging behaviors such as gas lighting and manipulation. In all honesty, I do not regret the three years of my life that I spent with you. What it all taught me, in conclusion, is that you did not give me the love that I know now for certain that I deserve. You wanted to be missed more than you wanted to be loved. I wanted to love you more than I wanted to miss you. We may have begun as magnets, effortlessly attracted to one another, but the sensation, the intense fire between us, has inevitably died out.

To this day, I suffer from the repercussions of the psychological abuse that you put me through. I often find myself doubting whether or not you were the one that was truly at fault regarding our situation. Some days I wonder what the outcome would have been if I had only been able to be less sensitive, less demanding, or held fewer expectations. I struggle tremendously with the possibility of sustaining a healthy, non-emotionally abusive relationship with another human being without ultimately getting burned. Even when I am shown love, the emotionally charged part of my brain that has been damaged feels as though I am undeserving of that love, despite the rational part knowing that I am more than deserving. Furthermore, I analyze the underlying meaning of that love being expressed to me; I question whether or not it is wholeheartedly genuine or if it is simply mimicked, as yours was. These are all things that I must diligently work on daily in order to survive.

I refuse to be your supply anymore, or a victim to your abuse.

The day that I walked out on you for good was the day that I realized my true sense of self-worth.

You could have said you loved me a million times until you were blue in the face, but you did not value me.

You did not love me.

You only loved the way that I loved you.