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A letter to my ex: who never 'actually' hit me

With the keys to our shared home returned, today marks the end of a chapter.


For nearly two years, I built my life around a man.

I fought for our future almost daily; I sacrificed my values and neglected my boundaries for the ‘greater good’ - a happy future, a marriage, a baby.

I just wanted the life, you know?


On Facebook, it probably seemed like we had a wonderful, happy life, in our beautiful lavish home.

We sure made it seem that way, didn’t we? Truthfully, it was the exact opposite.


Here’s a letter I wrote to him as I close this chapter in my life.


 

Disclaimer: Before I get hate mail, let’s all remember that sharing my story is a fundamental right. Yea, defamation is a criminal offence in Canada, but by definition, defamation is the act of harming another person’s reputation by making false statements. Defamation law is not about protecting pride; it is about protecting reputation. So here’s my advice, don’t be a shitty person if you don’t want people to know that you’re a shitty person.


Now that nothing ties us together I wanted to reach out and thank you for never ‘actually’ hitting me.

You never gave me a black eye or a split lip,’ technically’ you never touched me, so “what would the police even do?” Because according to you, It’s only abuse when it’s physical.


You didn’t need to put your hands on me when you backed me into a corner...

Your face turned crimson as you invaded my personal space, blocking my efforts to get free, you played defence with moves worthy of an NBA contract. Measuring in at five foot ‘eight’, who would believe you abused me?

“HIT ME!! HIT ME!! JUST FUCKING HIT ME”, As you spat the words into my face, I recall being absolutely terrified. “Would he actually hurt me, I wondered?

I couldn’t breathe, I was gasping for air & as you stood, inches away from me, you watched. Watched me hyperventilate, and clutch my chest and as the panic attack started, I swear I saw a flash of pleasure cross your face as you pressed on.


“C’mon, I only need you to hit me three times”

That realization made me nauseous. You had researched and planned, prepared up an excuse and now you were just waiting for the opportunity. I no longer wondered if you would hurt me, it was just a matter of time now.


You never hurt me with your hands, but you did slam my face into the couch, pinned me down and pull my thong to the side. I repeatedly cried no, as your fingers invaded my body. You bought dinner, you tell me, so now it’s time for restitution & just like Judas on tax day, you were determined to collect one way or another.


But when morning rolled around, you always claimed to have no recollection of your alcohol-induced violence towards me.

“I’m sorry I’ve been outta control lately.” You always apologized but when I’d bring up you how you hurt me, raped me - abused me, you’d become enraged. “I want to fix this but you just find something to fight about“


It was always me that was the problem, never you.


You never hit me but even after we broke up, you wouldn’t let me bathe alone; it’s like you heard the water and came running. I told you how uncomfortable it made me when you walked in on me naked. I asked for 10 minutes of privacy and locked the door. You exploded into a fit of rage. Then you drank until you slurred your words. You sat outside my locked door banging, screaming, swearing and threatening me, all while attempting to break down the door.

You laughed at me when I said I was scared of you but I stayed behind a locked door for 10 hours that night and every night moving forward.


You never hit me, but you did take the boxes of my late husband's belongings and threw them at me. You destroy my possessions, and broke my son’s toys. You punished me, blamed me for your behaviour because if I had just done what you wanted it would have never happened.


“I shouldn’t have to hear you moan” you texted me at 2 am as you waited outside my bedroom door. You were so obsessed with my sex life after we broke up, you would bang on my door till I unlocked it, and forced your way into my room just itching to “catch me”.


“I’m going to sit right here and watch who comes out of this room” but no one ever did.



You never hit me.



Instead, you found other ways to hurt me…a burst blood vessel in my eye, bruises on my arms, even an X-ray, but you never hit me, right?


After bragging about nearly stabbing a man, you told me you didn’t love me. You nursed your bruised knuckles, and said, “I like who I am and I’m not changing for anyone.” I nearly laughed, as you listed the ways I tried to 'change' you, from telling you how to parent to teaching communication skills. I wanted growth, not change.


I wanted a better man, yet, I loved you regardless.



So as we cut ties, I really do hope you were telling the truth when you said you like who you are because you have to look in the mirror every day and face yourself. I hope you live till you’re 85 years old but I pray that every night, nightmares of what you did plague your sleep. I really do hope your company succeeds but I pray that remorse and regret eat at your soul till you’re nothing but a shell of a man. I hope you find love but I pray she breaks your heart and wastes your youth before leaving you with no one to carry on your last name. I hope you prosper in everything you do but I pray you gamble it all away....

I really do wish you all the happiness in the world, I wish that all your dreams and hard work come to fruition but I pray your life implodes right before it gets good, just like you did to us.



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