The Threat.

I’m still afraid of him. I’m still scared that he’s keeping tabs on me. I may have sent him back to jail. That’s enough for him to want to get his revenge. I’m terrified honestly. Am I freaking out over nothing? Maybe. But… That threat…. It stays with me… In the back of my mind. Every where I go. Every day. It haunts me.

I’m leaving it all behind. I’m going. It’s behind me. He can’t know… Can he?… Ugh… These thoughts, these worries. I can’t shake them. I’m miserable.

Maybe I just need some sleep…. It’s late….



But… He already has me.

Just talked to Eric’s ex-girlfriend. She warned me that he can be mentally abusive. Great.

If the person themselves warns you not to give them a chance, what do you do?

I’ve been hurt before. On one side I don’t want to put myself in the position where I have the possibility to be hurt again. But on the other hand, I can keep my eyes open and leave if he tries to hurt me. But would I leave? Or would I allow myself to suffer again?

Do I give him a chance to show he’s different? Do people ever really change? 

I always attract these types of guys. Even Pablo, the best relationship I ever had, the first person I ever really loved, was not entirely nice to me. I’ve grown accustomed to it. Maybe I can find a mild version and learn to live with it. It’s all I really attract. 

He seems like a mild version. Maybe. 

The big question here: Do I give him a chance?

Please help me. Anyone. I need advice.

Phil pt. 2

More smoking. More mindless nonsense. Though now I am typing but I don’t even know what to say…

So… How about that local sports team? Or….. How was your last period? (Inside joke)

I guess I’ll talk more about him… How he put me down, made me feel worthless. One day we were in Walmart, he was walking behind me, I was wearing a pair of his jeans. He commented on how terrible they looked on me. He said, ” I found your mom’s ass”. The little comments he made about me, my weight, how I looked, they made my self-esteem plummet. I don’t know why I stayed as long as I did. Was it for the children?

Yes, there were children, not mine though. His children. He had five kids. One was even my age. What the hell was I thinking? The three middle kids lived with his mother, and the youngest lived with his ex-wife. Oh the tangled webs we weave. Why or how I got into this situation is still beyond me. Then the house we lived in… It was a small 4 bedroom house in a low class area. I lived with his friends dad and uncle. Now, remember, he is 38. Therefore, so are his friends. So I lived in a house with him and 2 old men. Later on his friends came to live with us as well. They had 2 kids, Joey and Melina. Oh how I loved that little girl… She was a bitch but she grew to love me. I stood up for her, I was almost like her big sister. And Joey, he was the typical big brother. Mean, rude, all that jazz. He was 14 and smoked weed with his parents. But, God forbid, his parents would not let him smoke cigarettes until he turned 18.

So we had 8 people living in this tiny house. The house was disgusting, too. It was cleaned about once a month or so, dishes everywhere, trash, and just random shit all over the place. I couldn’t walk around in my bare feet. The floor was just too gross.

There were also 2 dogs. One was a shepherd of some sort. A very aggressive dog who barked and bit at you any time you left the house. He never got taken for walks or even played with. Long fur that was never groomed. Those poor dogs. The other was a beagle. She was very sweat and calm for the most part. The dogs loved to get high though. Because the owners just sat around and smoked all day so the dogs did too.They purposely blow smoke in thee faces of the dogs to “calm them down”.

They all hated me. I knew it. I could feel it. Of course they did. I was the other woman in their eyes. At the time, I didn’t know it nor did I see myself as the other woman when I found out, but now I know.

I’m even sure he was trying to get rid of me. He always told me to “go home to mom if you’re so unhappy” even though he knew I hated her. Even his friends were trying to help him, they made little comments about his habits that would gross any normal person out, but for some reason, I’m not normal. They would look at me after saying these things to see my reaction.

I don’t know why I stayed for so long, but thankfully I am able to look back on it and tell myself that it was not even a year out of my life. I learned a lot there. I learned what to watch out for in guys, the red flags that pop up. I never had any at the time but I feel you need to have a bad relationship at some point in your life so you can learn them. I am so thankful that I learned them and in such a short amount of time, too.

I don’t regret it. Most people would be astonished by that, but I just don’t. I learned from it. I never look back and say “I wish I hadn’t done that”, instead I say “I’m so happy I didn’t stay with him”. I’m so happy we never really got married.

It’s all experience. It’s all just a life lesson. Something I had to learn but couldn’t be taught in school. Thank you, Phil, for teaching me about the assholes in this world. About how to notice them and the red flags. Thank you.

Wow. I never thought I’d say that. Ever. But now that I look at it, I CAN say it.

Thank you, Phil.

All right. Here goes nothing…

He was handsome. Blond hair down to about his chin, around 5′ 7″ or 5′ 8″. He wasn’t my normal type. He wasn’t skinny but he certainly wasn’t fat. Nor was he muscular. Just an average build. He looked good, but not when he smiled. You could see he was missing some of his bottom teeth, and others were rotting. I looked past that though. I found out that he was an ex Meth addict. But I was in too deep to turn around now. He had seduced me. Drawn me in with promises of sex and alcohol. I was only 17 at the time. How did he know I was into older men? He was 37. I look back on it now and wonder what on earth I was thinking?

I know what I was thinking. My parents were fighting, I didn’t know it until later but I could feel it. My mom was getting stricter by the minute and I wanted to wriggle free from her grasp. I had just graduated high school and was ready to move out and be on my own. Experience new things and have fun. So here he was, Pulling me in with his charm. He had charisma. That’s what made me fall for him. His charm and charisma.

He told me he would never do meth again. Why would he? Weed is so wonderful and so is alcohol, he didn’t need the trouble that came with smoking meth. I believed him.

We would sneak around behind my mother’s back for a while. But finally she found out what was going on. She forced me to bring him to our home so she could meet him. Then told him to never talk to me again. That night she stole me away to Iowa, to visit my grandparents and keep me away from him. Little did she know, every time I was on the computer, I was video chatting with him. I truly loved him. One night, while we were secretly chatting, he asked me to marry him. I was overjoyed.

It wasn’t until on our way back to Colorado I was told my parents were getting a divorce. I cried. All these years I heard about my friends’ parents being divorced or getting divorced. I had always thought to myself, “My parents would never do that, they love each other too much”. How naive.

Eventually my mom found out that I was still seeing him, and kicked me out of the house. I ended up going to live with him. He went out and got a ring and everything for me.

The sex was… interesting. He was violent, He slapped me and choked me. He even tried to force me to do anal. He forced it so many times I started to enjoy it.

“I am going to ruin you for other guys,” he told me one night then proceeded to fuck me hard in the ass until we both climaxed, at the same time. He had done just what he said. He ruined me. I had never had a guy get me to climax before, and after that, I don’t think I ever will again without taking it in the ass. The thought of it just sends shivers down my spine.

I lived with him for 6 out of the 9 months that we were together. Towards the end he started telling me about this other woman. About how she was under the impression that they were dating, but it was only because she was dying and he wanted to make her feel good. Oh, how I ate up his filthy lies. I yelled at him. Telling him I knew he was fucking her. He promised he would stop, more lies. More eating.

I went to visit my friend one day. She told me about how she knew he was seeing another woman. I told her that we had talked about it and how he said he wouldn’t see her again.

“Well, did you know he’s still seeing her,” She asked.

I did not. I broke down right there in her back yard and cried. I let out all of the pain I had been holding inside me for the last 9 months. All the things he told me, I realized were all lies. He never loved me, he was using me. And of course he was. How could a 38 year old meth head love a young vulnerable girl? He couldn’t. He could only use her. Use me.

I left him that day. I called my dad and asked for his help to get my things. He left work and met me by the house I had lived in those 6 months. We called for a police assistance, I was scared of him. And I needed him to know I was serious about leaving. So we gathered all my things and piled them into my mine and my dad’s cars, and drove away.

I haven’t seen him since, but the thought of him still haunts me. It’s been just over a year now since I left him. When will these memories fade? When will the images in my mind be less vivid? When will these wounds heal? I don’t know. But what I do know is I have to keep my eyes on the future. I know it will be so much better than the past.

There. I did it. I wrote about him. I got it out of my mind and into the world. I could have written more detail, more about how he put me down and insulted me, yet somehow I stayed. But I’m not ready to go into it that deep yet.