In the beginning, he was my hero, the one who pulled me out of my shell. Before him, I had always been reserved, unsure of myself, constantly second guessing everything I did. But with him, it was different. He made me feel good in a way I hadn’t before, like I could finally be myself, like I could do anything. His attention and affection lit me up, and for the first time, I felt truly happy and confident. He encouraged me to speak my mind, to be bold, and with him by my side, I started to believe in myself more than I ever had. It felt like I was finally breaking free, and the world seemed so much brighter with him in it. We had the best time in the world.
But as time passed, I began to notice cracks in our perfect image. It started with small things—he’d disappear for hours without explanation or stay up late alone. I tried to brush it off, convincing myself it was nothing, until the signs became impossible to ignore. There were bottles hidden around the house, and I’d find evidence of drugs he’d tried to keep secret. When I confronted him, he’d downplay it, saying it was just to “take the edge off” or claiming he had it under control. But I could see it was more than that. His drinking escalated, and the drugs became more frequent, dragging him into dark moods, pulling him further away from the person I thought I knew. Still, I held on, thinking I could help him, believing it was just another part of his charm, and that somehow I could fix what was broken.
I found myself changing, bit by bit. I became more careful, always trying to avoid saying or doing something that might set him off. It felt like I was constantly walking on eggshells, unsure of which version of him I would get on any given day. One minute, he’d be affectionate, making me believe everything was fine, and the next, he’d be cold, distant, leaving me desperate to win back his approval. I began to feel trapped in this endless cycle of highs and lows, never knowing where I stood. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t love—it was control.
In the end, leaving him is hard, but it’s also the most liberating thing I’ve ever done. There’s so much to untangle, and now I can see just how deep his control ran. But I’m fighting through it, and with every step, I feel a little lighter. My friends are here for me in ways I never imagined. They saw what I couldn’t, and when I finally opened up to them about everything—the lies, the addiction, the way he made me feel small—they rallied around me with so much love and support. They remind me of who I am, how much stronger and more secure I’ve become. With their strength behind me, I’ve found the courage to walk away, even though starting over is terrifying. It’s not easy—these days are filled with uncertainty and fear—but for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. With my friends standing by my side, I’m growing stronger with every step, more like myself again. I’m not alone, and for the first time in forever, I feel free, supported, and ready for a new beginning.
