How Abuse Turned Me Into An Abuser

When I was in my freshman year, I fell in love with a girl. By that time, I saw her as this
sweet, adorable, and cheerful girl who happened to have a music taste similar to mine. We
started dating around two months after we met. We’d spend afternoons taking a walk
around the campus, singing random songs along the road. We became a couple envied by
some, but mostly despised because we did public display of affection all the time.

As the relationship progressed I found out that she has quite a lot of past traumas, which
only made me wanted to stick with her even more. But being an angsty and socially
awkward teenager who barely survived high school, I have no clue as to what might
happen later or how am I supposed to treat her.

The warning signs were everywhere. She’d call me all the time, even when I’m out of town
doing my research assignment. She’d get mad at me if I didn’t pick up her call (which
happened every 10 minutes on several occasions). She’d lash out at me whenever she gets
mad at something or someone else. She’d always be passive-aggressive if she didn’t get
what she wanted. We broke up, we made up, we broke up, we made out, we made up. The
pattern is obvious now, but I was absolutely clueless back then. I just kept going.

Unfortunately, at that time I haven’t learned how to express my dissatisfaction towards

people in a healthier way. I hated violence, and until now I always prefer a cool-headed
dialogue as a method to resolve a conflict. But before adult life taught me how to don a
more amiable mask, I wouldn’t try to sugarcoat my words if people started to piss me off.
Sarcasm and patronizing self-righteousness was my theme, and it proved to be a big, big
problem.

I believe you can imagine what happened when two troubled souls met. It escalated
quickly. Next thing I know, she’d throw her phone at me when she got mad. She would
often lock me up with her inside her apartment, forcing me to watch her angrily yell at me
or harm herself (or me). She’d literally drag me into the room if I tried to leave. If I wasn’t
around, she’d call and say she was feeling suicidal because of me. Threats, door slams, and
flying objects were common.

Over the years, I changed. On the surface I turned into a friendlier person whom are always
available for deep talks, snobbish discussions, or card games. But at the bottom of the
iceberg, my emotion went to the extremes. As I repressed my rage in front of most people,
in my most intimate relationship I became the devil. I started to do the same thing as what
she did to me. Sometimes worse. A few times, I did things that could send me to jail (even
now, she still keeps some photograph of her bruises).

Then why didn’t I exit that hell as soon as possible? The short answer is of course mutual
love (and sadly, obsession). But in retrospect, it was mainly my mindset.

To justify my choices, I developed a delusion that our relationship had helped me in

knowing myself. I tried to assure myself that my newly-acquired destructive tendencies
were simply hidden demons, and my relationship was a necessary step in learning how to
tame them. Was it? I fervently believed so, until some questions popped up in my mind.
What would've happened if I never dated her? What if the demon itself is something new
which I unconsciously conjured? What if I’m actually someone else?

Back then, I dodged the doubt with an equally toxic mindset: I put too much meaning in
small changes. Changes occured, indeed. As we tried to fix the doomed relationship over
and over again, we slowly learned to listen, to be patient, to properly take care of each
other, et cetera. But the fundamental matters, such as power relations (yes, I know that
phrase have a very serious connotation) and conflict resolution remained the same. It
always felt as if we moved the parliament into our relationship. Manipulation existed
everywhere. Power play became our routine. Almost every serious argument only stopped
after either one of us broke down.

Before I knew it, I projected it into my surroundings. I started to mildly manipulate people
around me. When I entered another relationship, I dragged my new girlfriend into my
problems. I failed to recognize her own issues and toxic habits, then ignored that fact after I
knew it. When circumstances made our relationship difficult, I would unconsciously hide
behind the sentence, “It was her own free will. I never forced her to stay in this
relationship”. Luckily, the violent tendencies didn’t tag along. That intermezzo (sorry,
Pisces, I know I’m a mess) proved that the violence was an exception, rather than the rule.
We never had a nasty argument, let alone violence.

Nevertheless, one can never escape his sins. I developed self-loathing, then slowly became a
dysfunctional young man plagued with anxiety, regular nightmares, suicidal thoughts, and
difficulty to focus on my tasks (honestly, as I write this, I’m thinking that I’d be really proud
of myself if I can finish this article). I neglected my studies, to the point that I’m on the
verge of dropping out now. My volatility constantly put me at odds with my parents when
our relationship was already tense. I lived as a nomad for quite a while, never really felt
content wherever I go.

It all seemed so surreal. The nostalgia, the regrets, the adrenaline, the traumas, everything.
Recovery was really hard, and I’m still struggling. I tried to make peace with my past,
starting with apologies to my family, exes, and friends. And in all honesty, I’m really
grateful for the fact that many chose to forgive me.

Felipe

A broke and foul-mouthed student who aspires to be a wandering storyteller and/or

journalist. Finds healing in music, poetry, and several forms of pseudoscience. If you have
some stories to share, send me a direct message on twitter: @plutoniangoat (don’t bother
following it though).