I never talk about my ex ever. I never talk about it because he was emotionally abusive and that's a really hard thing to confess to people I know. It was a slow build over 6 years. Conceptually I know it wasn't my fault, that I shouldn't feel ashamed, that part of how I feel is because of 6 years of brain washing. I'm trying to be more honestly lately and I briefly used the word ex on a facebook post that I deleted for fear of having to talk about it.

This ad pisses me off. I used the word that I never use, 'ex', and automatically its assumed I want to be back with that asshole. I have worked so hard to fix myself, and one of the biggest challenges was to accept that he was gone. I really wanted to get back with him once he was gone. I know, that's fucked up.

I wondered so many times if I over reacted, if it was my fault, if I worked harder maybe it would work, if I could love him right he'd stop being this way, if I acted right, if I didn't do anything he didn't approve of, that he stop, if I just could be better he'd be happy. I felt responsible for him. That he said those things because they were true, because he was trying to help me become better.

I know he was a manipulative asshole. That he did this slowly to take away everything that was me. To bring me down and control me, until I barely knew who I was. Until I'd stop doing stuff because I was so terrified of what he'd say or what he'd do next. I stopped writing for a long time because he read my diary. He told me he was sorry, he thought it was a book I was writing and then proceeded to ask me about the content for hours and how I should feel ashamed for thinking those things about him. That he was hoping to read something good about himself. He cried and told me I shouldn't write such things. I tried to explain that you don't read people's diaries and that they are super uneven because they are written in emotional extremes. I wrote about his sexsomnia, that he attacked me in my sleep, and how upset I was by it and that the only person I could talk to was my therapist.

He accused me of having an affair with my therapist because of how I dressed. That even if I wasn't fucking him I would be and that I wanted too. That I was having an emotional affair with him and I should be ashamed of myself for cheating. That I should change therapists. I didn't. I won't lie. I loved my therapist, and ya I thought about it, and that's why it hurt so much. I felt like a cheater. I felt like a whore. I burned all those feelings because he made me feel so ashamed. I found it hard to open up to my therapist again for fear of being a cheater. It's only recently that I've felt connected to my therapist again, it's love, but not one that's sexual and not one I've experience before. I think it's what trusting someone completely must feel like.


He'd wake me up to argue with me for hours, until I was so sleep deprived and exhausted I'd stop fighting. He use everything I said against me. If it seemed like he was gonna lose, he'd threaten to kill himself.

If I ate a snack in the afternoon he'd say "Do you really think you should be eating that?"

He cry, and tell me how I was such a selfish person because I didn't want to have sex. Even though I explained because of my condition that all sex was painful. He told me that I made him feel unloved, because he could only feel love in a physical form. If I offered a hand job, he ridicule me and make me feel even worse about myself. So I did it, because I was afraid of the fights, I didn't want him to feel unloved, and I couldn't get out. I found myself afraid all the time. I wasn't me anymore. I stopped being a person.


It's as though the world around me got so small that if I even moved a step, he'd use his words and his feelings to hurt me. I was scared of living. I found myself on pause waiting to see what he wanted.

I hate talking about it because it's invisible. Because I'm ashamed. I thought I was strong, that this would never happened to me, that it couldn't happen to me. But now I know, I was strong, but this kind of abuse is so slow, that it breaks down all your defences. You are undermined and isolated. They gain your trust and then find all your insecurities and exploit them. That this could happen to anyone. That it's not my fault. There are thousands of reasons why I stayed. It's not like tv or the movies, it's complicated. And I really believed I could save him and that it was my responsibility to fix him.

I'd try to leave and he'd convince me again that he'd changed. That he knew he had problems, that he was going to therapy and he'd be better. Then he confessed he was reading articles about how to get your partner to stay. How to get your partner to trust you. Ya... It wasn't real. It was a con. Therapy made him better at being manipulative. ...


There were times when I got so bad I lay down and become numb. I vacated my body and mind.

I was actively trying to leave for months and I opened up to a friend who didn't know him. I cried, something I never would do, and she gave me so much support and gave me reasons to get out. We even went on a little vacation together, so I'd have time to get my strength up and see what my life could be like without him.

and I got out. I GOT OUT.

Then some ad comes along written by a psychic to tell me how to get back with my ex. The image is so predatory. I hate everything about this ad. If I read it, I'm betting it's manipulative predatory garbage. But I'm not going too.


How about, go fuck yourself. Seriously, just fuck off.