Danielle
My senior year, I was so ready to be done with high school and all of the bullshit. There were boys I had serious crushes on, but nothing ever happened. I didn’t know how to assert myself, how to let them know I really did like them. By this time, my reputation was a disgusting, mangled mess of lies, and I just didn’t care anymore.
I had a dear friend who always attempted to make me feel better. We’d been friends through most of this high school drama. She knew how I hurt. She wanted to see me happy. She started trying to get me to assert myself. And honestly, I don’t remember what she said, did, or suggested, but slowly, I started to feel assertive.
My first attempt at being STRONG and ASSERTIVE and FORWARD with a guy was horribly successful. I actually grabbed a guy’s ass (in his tight Wranglers) and told him I liked it. Within a few weeks, we were together non-stop. Within a month, we were a couple.
I asserted myself with the wrong person. I asserted myself with a dangerous, careless asshole, who had no idea about the history I carried within myself. I asserted myself with a person who cheated on me, berated me, humiliated me, hurt me, hit me. I made the wrong decision.
He was two years younger. He was cute, sorta. Lanky, blond, blue-eyed, bad-boy type. Catholic. By the time I learned that he had some issues with drugs and alcohol, it was too late: my heartstrings were all tangled in his fists. One of the first days we hung out after school, he was drunk. It didn’t really bother me, it was just a bit disconcerting. We went to the house of a friend of his, and there were lots of people I didn’t know, younger than me, and all fucked up. I realized I was with the “wrong crowd”, but I didn’t care.
He got so loaded that day, and he drove me home. He passed out at the wheel and drove into a ditch. I had to climb out of the passenger window, walk around & push him out of the driver’s seat, and get us out of the ditch.
I was supposed to pick my brother up from school. I didn’t make it. He walked home. He snored as I drove to his house, with the tires and steering column shaking violently. He didn’t wake up when I pulled into his driveway. I left him there, got my car, and went home. He called that night, acting as though nothing happened. I went along with it.
He was with me a few hours after I found out my parents had split up. He took me out to get drunk. On a school night. I vaguely remember throwing beer bottles at speed limit signs as he drove around the back roads between my house and his.
I won’t blame him for the amount of alcohol I drank that year. I probably would have done it anyway. But it was an unhappy drunk, an unhappy time, and honestly, he made me happy, for a brief period. When I wasn’t happy, it was too late.
He walked me to class, took me out on the weekends, hung out with me at my house during the week. He took me to pick my brother up from school when my car was in the shop. We hung out with his friends; very rarely mine. I met some people through him that were normal, sane, not part of the “wrong crowd,” and I’m thankful for those people; they ended up getting me through the bullshit he put me through later.
My parents hated him. My mother told him he was an asshole, and my dad pretty much ignored him. I continued to spend every waking hour with him, and spent many nights sleeping on the floor next to his bed, avoiding home.
He was the person who convinced me to use drugs for the first time. I’ll never forget it.
I started lying to my father about where I was staying, whose house I was sleeping over at, just so I could party with him and his friends. I relished his attention, and I liked the ease with which all of his friends just seemed so superficial and easy-going. No heartaches, no stress, no separated parents, no responsibilities.
I arrived at a party one night after work. Most everyone was wasted by the time I arrived. One of his older brother’s friends started picking on me, trying to draw me out, I guess. Instead of defending me, my boyfriend joined in. Within minutes, this older guy had pinned me up against the wall in the garage, cussing and spitting in my face. I was scared, but kneed him in the crotch. When he let go, my boyfriend and his brother took over, “playfully” grabbing me & threatening me. When they both slammed me so hard that I saw stars, I think my boyfriend woke up and told his brother to back off.
I had handmarked-bruises on both arms and shoulders for the next week. I avoided his calls.
He apologized; I went back to him.
Rinse and repeat. Alcohol. Anger. Sarcasm. One night of a threat with a gun and being pinned against his car, and I was done. Done, done.
I avoided his calls. I berated myself for getting involved with him in the first place, for being assertive towards him, of all people. Why not the guy I had a crush on since 5th grade, that I never told? Why not the nice football player who let me sit with him at lunch, who I had meaningful, intelligent conversations with in English? Why not any motherfucker other than this guy?
We went camping in the deserts of Carlsbad, New Mexico over Spring Break. My father actually let me go. It was a whole group of us, along with the father of his best friend. There were a couple of people in the group that I really enjoyed being around, that I felt safe with. Yes, I went.
The first night, he slept with my then-best friend, a girl in his grade. They shared the same birthday. We all shared a tent together. Everyone was drunk, on drugs (except me). I barely drank. I climbed into the tent, tired and dirty. He was on top of her. She saw me, pushed him off, and said my name. I slept in a friend’s truck that night. She banged on the window, but I wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t unlock the door. The rest of the trip was a blur. Alcohol, shooting guns in a dried-up riverbed, people falling into campfires, someone flipping the 4-wheeler with both of us on it–the breath being knocked out of me, both of them trying to make it up to me.
I got angry and yelled at him while we were climbing into some caves. He pushed me down.
Somehow, I went to prom with him. It was a disaster. By then, my friends were gone, pretty much. The sweet one that had helped me assert myself–she had left school by then to have her baby. I was so lonely. I continued to hang out with all of them. He convinced me to leave prom after dinner. No dancing, no visiting with friends, no nothing. I wasted the time on my hair, the money on my dress, the love in my heart for this.
The hotel that was supposedly “all taken care of” fell apart. We ended up at one of his friends’ houses, where his childhood friend (a girl) proceeded to try to pick a physical fight with me. He walked away, going to the bathroom to drop some acid. He passed out on a bed, but not before he called his childhood friend into the room, pulling on his belt buckle. I drove home.
The week after prom, random people started telling me about the girls he was talking to when I wasn’t on campus. His own sister told me he was sleeping with one of her friends. My then-best friend called me to apologize about Spring Break, and begged to “make it up to me.”
The night of graduation, she showed up at the ceremony with him. I have pictures of the three of us standing there together, and now I look into my young face and am dumbfounded that I allowed myself to be treated so badly.
I went to Project Graduation, and she “made it up to me” by going with me. By the time that was over, he was drunk and passed out in his own vomit in a friend’s backyard. I stuck a note in his pocket, telling him it was over.
I avoided his calls. I got tested for STDs.
It ended badly. I was a sobbing mess. I begged, pleaded, ranted, screamed. I was so angry at him, for cheating on me, for making me look like a fool, for dragging me down a road I didn’t want to go down. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I wanted him gone, but I cried when he told me he was done with me.
I didn’t return his last phone call.
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33 Responses to “Danielle”
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oh love… my eyes welled up with tears throughout reading this entire post, but when i saw who indeed this brave survivor is at the bottom of the post, when i saw that it was you, danielle, the tears streamed down my face.
i’m so sorry that you endured years of this agony, constant pain.
you are so brave. so very VERY brave.
thank you for sharing this.
Yours is such an important story to tell. I’m so glad you’re free of him and his abuse. I know it’s easy to blame yourself for picking him, but that’s all you did. You picked him. He did the rest. All of it.
Wishing you peace…and thank you for sharing this with us.
Pretty heavy stuff for anyone to deal with – much less a teenager. Teens have their own host of issues to battle and overcome; this shouldn’t be one of them. Glad you got out and that you got out when you did.
The best news (beyond the getting out) is that you did it with your whole life ahead of you. It was a hard lesson but it sounds like you’ve learned it and it won’t happen again. You know what love is and – just as important – you know what it’s not. People who love you don’t do those kinds of things to you. You are brave and strong and smart and you deserve SO MUCH better.
You’ve not only given yourself a great gift by getting out, but others, too, by sharing your story. I hope you find the peace and happiness that you deserve.
Thank you for sharing your story. Sometimes we don’t truly see how bad the choices we make are until too late. I hope that life has continued to get better for you through the years.
This is a story many will be helped by. You quit him. Others can quit, too. I’m sorry it was your story.
I think it’s so important to lay out the anatomy of a relationship like you did – it makes me understand why it is so hard for some to leave such a relatiosnhip even though there is abuse. I think all people want to trust that people will change, but I’m so proud of you for doing what you did, learning from it and surviving. You’re an amazing woman and we can all learn something from this story.
Oh, Danielle.. what a story. Thank you so much for sharing this. It is so important for so many to hear. Sometimes I wonder at all the things I let boys do to me in my teens and I want to go back and just smack myself with a clue-by-four. While I didn’t have much of a problem with being assertive, I did have a problem with knowing how to say no. I sucked at it. And boys felt more than welcome to take advantage of it. Sometimes forgiving ourselves is the hardest thing to do, though really they should have known better than to treat a girl that way. And really, the power is not always in our hands as much as we might think it is. There’s no reason to blame yourself for getting involved with him, he didn’t have a sign on his forehead that read ‘abusive asshole’, did he? If anything, you should congratulate and thank yourself for getting out alive and surviving it.
Danielle, I admire your sharing this. Thank you.
You are a brave woman Danielle. Thank you for sharing your story as I know it wasnt easy to tell.
Thanks so much for sharing your story. It took a lot of courage to walk away from such an abusive relationship.
Love you.
So proud of you, dear heart. xoxo
Brave young woman. You DO deserve better, but don’t beat yourself for the choices you have made. Learn from them and become even stronger. I pray you find complete healing and peace.
You are so brave and strong to share your story. Thank you for sharing your story sweetness. I love you so much!
Thank you for sharing. It really is so very hard to get out of a relationship like this. I don’t know why we can become so self-destructive. Good for you that you did get out.
thank you for sharing. you are stronger than you know. you are bigger than this. this is your past. it made you stronger. bigger, better. you will wake up tomorrow and realize that every day is an opportunity to start over and walking out was your way of starting over. and when you feel weak, come back here and read all of this. and start over. you are so strong, and beautiful and brave. never ever ever forget that.
Blessings to you.
Hugs to you. Thank you SO MUCH for being gracious enough to share this.
“[i]t was too late: my heartstrings were all tangled in his fists.” That line spoke to me like nothing I’ve read for quite a while.
It is a true testament to your character and fire for life that you were able to escape and still be the amazing person you are today. You inspire me.
i, of course, don’t know him, but i hate him for treating my friend that way. just look at the amazing wonderful woman you’ve become…I’m so glad you found the strength to get away from that. love you honey
I love you girl…HARD.
I don’t know you but I do. “Tragically familiar” was the thought that kept coming back to me. As long ago as high school was for me, you cold have been any one of a hundred girls I knew back then. It seems there’s never been a shortage of abusive asshats. Not even 30-odd years ago. We just didn’t know what to call it (or them) then.
But I want you to understand one thing if nothing else. None of what happened to you was your fault. Just like a hundred girls I knew back in the day, you were looking for something, someone, and thought you found him. That did not give him license to treat you this way. There’s nothing that grants that kind of privilege to one person over another.
Maybe you already realize that. Maybe you don’t look back and second guess yourself and wonder if just maybe you did something to invite this. Trust me, you did not. And there is no reason whatever for you to shed one more tear over that guy.
But as a couple of people have already pointed out, there’s some good in all this. You learned at a much younger age than most that it’s not okay to be treated this way. You learned it before you were completely alienated from your family and those who would support you. And this gives you an insight, an advantage as you go forward.
So go forward. And do it boldly. Do it with the wisdom you’ve gained form your experience and live well.
Thank you for this. Your voice, when joined together with all the others will make a noise so loud that the silence will shatter under the very weight of it.
Much Love,
Thank you so much for the courage to share your story so others may learn from it. You are so strong to have survived so much!
As I always say, “You did then what you thought you had to do.” Forgive yourself…you needed comfort, an escape, etc.
You are so brave, and so awesome.
How wonderful that you have survived some of the poor choices all of us make in life. You should congratulate yourself on finding the strength and wisdom to see how important and valuable you are. So many of us struggle a lifetime figuring that out. Thank you for sharing your story and helping others.
Oh, my god. It just shouldn’t be like that.
Thank you for sharing this. I had a boyfriend in high school who treated me in much of the same way. I understand how you can get sucked in and have a horrible time getting away.
You were brave to stay away from him.
Thank you for sharing. You poured your heart out, and I am glad you trusted all of us with your story.
Thank you for having the courage to survive and to share your story.
Thank you for being brave enough to leave him. Thank you for telling your story.
Thank you for sharing. I’m so happy you’ve chosen better for yourself. You deserve so much better than this.
I’m so glad that you were able to break free from the terrible cycle of violence you were caught up into!
I know how difficult it was for you to walk away. I admire you for walking. I spent 20 years in a similar situation. I can reassure you that things would have gotten worse for you, never better. Try to find some programs to build your self confidence and self worth. It helps.
Best to you always.