Learning to Control Me

         It's remarkably difficult to admit to yourself that you are in a bad or abusive relationship. I don't think a lot of people realize that because it seems much easier to recognize when you are on the outside of it, when you are not the one actually being treated badly. I know I had heard of different types of abuse before, but for some reason the image of an abusive relationship seemed set in my mind as the one we all see in Lifetime movies. Despite everything I had been taught in all those classes at school, I never really saw just how vast the definition of abuse could be. I always thought that as long as I wasn't being held down and beaten unconscious then I was good, those were the real abusive relationships, not the kind I was in.
         I think that is a mistake that a lot of people in unhealthy relationships make, thinking that somewhere in the world someone is really being hurt badly, having bones broken and being put in the hospital, nearly being killed by their significant other, so how on earth could we look at whatever situation we are in and have the nerve to call it abuse? I mean after all, there's always someone meaner, there's always someone who's being treated so much worse, the person we are with really isn't doing us that much harm, right? So what if they scream horrible names at us or throw things because we forgot to do something just right or didn't call as soon as we went on break at work to prove that we weren't talking to anyone else? So what if they got mad because we said something stupid or rolled our eyes at an ugly remark that they made and they became so livid that they chased us through the house screaming until we cowered in the shower because we weren't sure of what they were going to do? Yeah, maybe they acted like they were going to slap us or even take a swing at us and then just missed us or just caught the edge of our chin with their fingertips. They didn't actually hurt us, they didn't swing again until they made real contact with our face or body, that's got to count for something, right? I mean if they really wanted to hurt us they would have, we wouldn't be standing here or sitting in the corner trying to get our emotions under control so we can go back to fixing their dinner; if they had really been wanting to hurt us they would have so how abusive can they really be? We rationalize things, we sweep them under our subconscious rug, we forget as soon as it happens because we know that to dwell on it would be to acknowledge that not all abuse is physical, that there are ways of hurting people, of breaking them without ever laying a hand on them. We don't want to face these things and acknowledge the we are, in fact, in an abusive situation and so we don't let our minds go there. We let things go, we overlook and intentionally don't face our problems because it's easier to do so than to admit that we are in trouble. And I'll tell you something, unless you have been there for yourself and had to face these things on a very personal level, you don't realize how shockingly, how terrifyingly easy it is to actually rationalize away abuse and put it out of mind.
         I remember my very first sexual experience with David, it was also my very first sexual experience ever. I remember that before that night we had been "talking" for maybe two weeks. We couldn't actually date in public of course because at the time I was sixteen and had very strict parents, while he was thirty-seven, recently out of his third marriage and living with his sister and her children. I remember being foolish enough to think that I knew everything and so completely self-conscious and lonely that I was willing to do anything to feel special and wanted for once. One of his nieces was in a couple of my classes and we had known each other for a few years, so naturally I knew all about this uncle of hers that seemed to always be dating whatever friend it was that she had around at the time. I know looking back that this should have been something that set off alarm bells in me but like I said, I was sixteen and thought I was smarter than everyone. I was also tired of being the shy quiet girl that had never kissed anyone and the good girl that never did anything, so when David showed the first signs of wanting me I jumped in head-first.
         David's first interest in me came by way of an ankle-length skirt on a Sunday. By this time my sister and I had slept over with his niece several times and we had been at their house a lot so he knew who we were. Being the good girls that we were, we never showed any sign of being promiscuous and so he had never showed any sort of interest in talking to us. One Saturday night, however, we had made plans to sleep over and to take his niece to church with us in the morning. I have always had pretty low self-esteem so my church clothes were in no way provocative, a dark blue t-shirt and an ankle-length blue and green skirt, but apparently the idea of the skirt made David take interest. From that point on whenever we were over he would watch me and relay messages through his niece about how cute he thought I was or how much I turned him on. If you know anything about high school girls with low self-esteem then you know it makes them easy prey for anyone that's willing to make them feel wanted. David certainly knew it, he knew quite a bit about high school girls.
         I loved the attention from the beginning, foolish as I was. I would try to make sure that I always stood so that I could be seen when David came into the room, always make sure to participate in whatever conversation was going on so that he knew I was there. When I made things in pottery class I would give them to his sister, hoping I guess that he would think I was nice for doing so or that he would think I was creative and talented and maybe fall hopelessly in love with me. Whatever I could do to have an excuse to catch his attention without actually being brave enough to talk to him, I would do.
         For his part, though I didn't realize it, this was business as usual for David. I was in no way special. I was just the next of his niece's young friends that he was going to try to bed, the idea of taking someone's virginity being a huge turn-on for him. He played his part well, sounding so sincere when he would tell me I was beautiful, looking me in the eyes and saying that he had never felt this way and he would die without me. David had already had plenty of experience with girls my age. I'm sure that by the time I came along the whole act for him was probably like a math formula, each girl being a different number that he would plug in to achieve the solution he wanted. I guess that's when the pattern of overlooking and sweeping things away started. I knew of a lot of his past, not to mention having both his niece and my sister trying desperately to tell me that I knew what he was, I knew the kind of things he had done so how could I really be considering this? Telling me that I really needed to stop and think, I needed to get out while I could. I wouldn't hear them. Denying what the relationship really was from the beginning, I believed that as long as I didn't hear them then everything was okay. I really believed that I was the one that he had been waiting on and needing, I could make him happy and he would change for me. I even remember telling him that even though almost everyone who knew him was afraid of him, I wasn't. I told him that I knew he really loved me and would never hurt me. His response? He told me I was stupid for not being afraid, and he was right.
         The only reason that I was actually able to "date" David was that he lived with his sister and her family. My sister and I could tell our parents that we were staying the night with our friend and when we went over I would go straight to David's room, having begged and begged to make sure my sister wouldn't tell. It was a terrible thing to ask her to do. I know that on more than one occasion she came close to breaking down and telling our parents, but being twins we had always had a very close relationship so she kept our secret. I think back to how incredibly unfair that was to her and it breaks my heart. Knowing that I was with someone that was ultimately a scary, unstable person that was dangerous to me but being terrified of losing her sister and the person she was closest to if she told, I know it was hard for her.
         There are a lot of things that I regret about that time in my, the biggest being that I pushed away my closest friends and family. Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll never be able to make up for the way that I treated the people that love me most during the early years that I was with David, before I realized that I needed help. It's no excuse, but the only thing I can say is that I thought I had fallen head over heals for someone, I thought he was at heart a good person that was just misunderstood. I let him make me believe that anyone that I cared about would try to take me from him, I didn't realize how deeply he had rooted himself in my head already. I didn't recognize that he was trying to turn me away from everyone but him so that he could begin the process of breaking me down and controlling me. I don't know that there are enough apologies for the way that I behaved during this time in my life. I have tried very hard to talk to the people that I love, to let them know how deeply I regret hurting them and turning my back on them. They have all been far kinder and more forgiving than I deserve, and I am very grateful for that and for them.
         I remember the first night I spent in David's room. The room was dark except for the blue glow coming in from the streetlamp outside and he didn't bother turning on the lights. He shut the door behind us and as soon as I turned around he had his tongue in my mouth. With the exception of a quick peck from a little boy in my kindergarten class when I was five, this was my first kiss. I don't remember a whole lot because I was so scared and unsure at the time, but I remember his hands seemed to be all over me all at once. I remember us moving to the bed and him moving on top of me, kissing my fast and kind of sloppy, like he wasn't so much interested in really kissing me as knowing that he had his tongue down my throat. I still think that came from being turned because I was sixteen and a virgin. I also remember his hands moving a lot, touching me everywhere and me being so unsure of what I was doing that I felt stunned and I hardly moved. I don't think I did anything with my hands except maybe put them on his back.
         The next thing I remember is pushing him off of me a little bit, being breathless and telling him that I wasn't ready to "go all the way" yet but that he could "feel free to explore." Just thinking of that makes me want to cringe. I wasn't sexually excited, I just didn't want him to get mad and not like me anymore because I wasn't ready to have sex, so this was my compromise. I wasn't very concerned about my body --I didn't think very much of myself anyway-- so I figured I could let him do whatever he wanted and he would be happy enough with that to wait a little longer. I realize now how sick he must have been to have been turned on by a sixteen year old who wasn't ready to have sex but was willing to let him grope and paw at her so that he would like her. It makes me nauseous. I also distinctly remember him performing oral sex on me that night. I remember even now that I was feeling so awkward and uncomfortable and kind of scared that I couldn't feel anything at all. I guess my lack of reaction eventually led him to give up on that. Not long afterwards we must have gone to sleep because I don't remember much else from that night, although I remember feeling like I had only bought a little time and thinking that the next time I stayed the night with him I would probably be having sex with him. It would be two weeks before my sister and I would sleep over again and that would be the night I lost my virginity.