Hi world!

As you know, every story needs a beginning and this one is no exception to that fact.

To truly understand this blog, me and my fairytale, I think it is necessary to go back in time and tell you guys about the road to where I am today; The Happily Ever After.

This part of my story, I will divide into chapters for an easier read. Hold on tight, guys… it will be an emotional rollercoaster ride… well maybe not for you, but it will be for me! Haha! Here goes nothing…

Chapter 1

I had only just turned 18 a couple of days earlier, when I lost the most important woman in my life. By all means, I would have called her Mom, but in this case, I called her Nana – My grandmother. She was my everything, the most amazing woman ever, and she was everything that I still aspire to be. It was hard, losing her. Till this day, it’s still hard. They say that time heals all wounds, but some wounds never heal. Some wounds will bleed every now and then, and no matter how much you try to nurture and protect it, once in a while you will bump it into something that will make it start bleeding all over again.

I can’t count how many tears I have shed for my loss of this great woman… Even though it is nearly 12 years since she left me, I still have a hard time even talking about her. It’s easier now, sure, but it will always be a painful reminder. I will always be needing her and missing her in everything I do. Especially now… I could go on and on about her, and I will revisit the subject again later, but for now, I need to tell you about the part of my life after her death, where my journey really began…

One of my Nana’s last wishes for me was to have someone who would love me and take care of me, when she was no longer able to… aka. she was dead. I was 18, a hopeless romantic and also very foolish – hence, the 18 years of age. I truly thought that I was doing the right thing by involving myself romantically with my best friend… Let’s just call him Steven.

It was only a few weeks after her death, when I decided to give it a try. Steven had been my rock in this difficult time, and I needed all the support I could get.
Steven was adored by my whole family, and my grandmother had really loved him. I knew that she had him in mind when she told me to find someone to share my life with, because it was no secret to anyone, that he was very much in love with me (Wow – that didn’t even sound the slightest bit self-centered at all! Haha!) So with her wish in mind, I tried to do the right thing…. Needless to say, a month later I was engaged to Steven, and moving in with him. I wanted to make my Nana’s wish come true, I wanted her to see that I was okay, just in case she would be watching over me.

I was still studying and working at the same time, trying to carry on with my life, but it was hard, because I wasn’t me anymore. I didn’t know who I was without her. I was vulnerable, hurting, but I always kept my pain to myself. I honestly don’t think that other people even saw my pain. I was always good at suffering in silence, hiding behind my stupid sense of humor, but the truth is, I was just dead inside at this point. A part of me, and a very huge part in fact, had died that day with her. I hoped that I would some day love Steven the same way that he loved me, and I really tried as much as I was possibly capable of at that point, but I just couldn’t. Loving anyone at this point was basically impossible… How could I, when I couldn’t even love myself?

I guess he knew, somewhere deep down, that it just was a matter of time before I would wake up from my daze and realize that what he had to offer, and the foundation of our whole relationship, just wasn’t right for me or him. It’s like taking a chance on something that was never ever meant to be. Like jumping off a cliff, hoping for a miracle to happen, and that you will magically land on your feet without a single scratch… maybe that’s why it went so terrifically wrong, because by the end of it, I would have jumped off the damn cliff just to get away from him.

A month after we moved in together, he started changing. A lot. He was jealous, controlling… a real tyrant. He never let me to do anything, at least not without a screaming match when I came home. At first I protested, but it quickly just got easier to give in to what he wanted. I simply didn’t have the mental strength to argue or fight with him. As a result to that, I stopped going out with my friends, I didn’t see my family as much, even though I was raised in a very close family.

It was only a matter of time before I had to stay home from school because I had a black eye, and that was only the beginning. Within a couple of weeks, I was isolated in our home. He had me exactly where he wanted me. I had stopped going to school all together, and never went back to my job. He made sure that I was emotionally and financially dependent on him. He made sure to put me down so I didn’t see any way out. He made sure that I knew that I had no life or future without him, because who would want someone as broken as me?

I lived like that for 1,5 year and things slowly escalated in that period of time. We had fights, physically and mentally and way more often than I could ever care to remember.

Steven was the kind of abuser, that gets a thrill out of seeing someone fighting back, the whole reaction… He wasn’t necessary the angry type, more the sadistic, hateful one. He broke me, mentally and honestly, I was ready to be locked away at a mental hospital and someone throwing away the key.

In the beginning, I had been fighting back when he abused me. I hit back, scratched, screamed, pushed… Fought with every ounce of strength I had left in me. I tried leaving, tried calling the police, but I was trapped. The Police didn’t take me seriously, and I couldn’t tell my family. I didn’t want them to know that I had gone straight into my mothers footsteps that she had left for me, after she was with my abusive father for almost a decade. I just couldn’t.

With every fight, every argument, every second around him, my fire slowly died. I had nothing left, so when he one day, a year into the relationship, took a knife and held at my wrist, asking me if he should kill me, I surprised him with not fighting back. I was done. My fire that had kept me fighting, giving me hope and strength was nothing but ashes and smoke. I didn’t feel anything anymore…

I could see the shock on his face when I, sitting on my knees in front of him, my right wrist in his hand, slowly looking up at him with eyes so empty and dead, that they matched my inside, and whispered ”Yes, please”… I wanted him to let me go, hell… I begged him to let me go. I didn’t care how, I just wanted peace. I was ready to die, I looked forward to him putting an end to my misery. I had no fear, only hope that my nightmare now would be over, but to my disappointment, he just put the knife down and left the room. I guess there was no excitement in it for him anymore.

Things changed after that. I guess that was what he needed from me. my complete submission with no will. However, I was desperate for some human contact, but since I couldn’t leave my home, the only way to do that was to simply open my computer, go online and find someone to have a meaningless conversation with. People don’t realize how liberating a conversation about the weather can be, unless they have experienced isolation like that. We take things for granted, simple things in life as passing another person in the street.

Life was manageable at that point, and I guess that was when I decided to fight in the shadows… Do things to better my life, without giving him reasons to fight me. Slowly finding a way to escape him, and one day, it was right there in front of me. Someone offered me a hand, and for once in my life, I took it. I let someone be my hero. I let him save me.

The truth is, I wasn’t looking for love at all, but I guess that love just finds you in the weirdest ways… when you least expect it… a total cliché, I know, but it’s true. It was the last piece I needed to get my strength back and take control over my life.

Well, fast forward, and that’s basically how I met my ex-husband. He saved me, he let me move in with him, helped me escape and in any other way I needed it. I was in love, I loved him for what he had done for me. I thought he was the one, and maybe he was… he just wasn’t the one I was meant to be with.

This is all a very dark period of my life, and something that has given me a lot of issues, with anxiety, especially social anxiety, but I truly feel like that’s a cheap price to pay for what I have today. I can honestly say that I would have done it all a thousand times over, if it meant that I would still end up where I am today…

So my advice is to you, whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you are facing:
DON’T GIVE UP. Keep fighting, never lose faith. One day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a year or fifty, your fairytale comes along, and it will be worth all the pain and heartache you had to go through to get there… You just have to believe!

That’s all for now, guys… thank you so much for reading!

– Maria

 

Continue reading the story here:

Chapter 2
Chapter 3

 

 

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