"I haven’t ever told anyone what truly happened, I have always made excuses for him." - Anonymous

Hello everyone, my name is Danielle and I live in Massachusetts. I figured I'd share my story because I still feel lost and I think it could help someone struggling. I was a sophomore in college, and I met the 'man of my dreams'. He worked with my father at the local fire station, and he had this amazing smile. He was cute, loud, and contagious. When we started dating he moved in with me at my parents, he and his father did not get along so well. He helped my parents with whatever was needed, he just 'fit in so perfectly'. That all started to change about six/seven months into our relationship. I had/ have an amazing relationship with my parents, my mom is my best friend, and he thought that was weird. He said I was 'too close' to my parents and needed to separate my life from theirs- I thought it was weird, but I didn't really care, I was in love. He began to say that we need to move out, give ourselves some space, that we 'have no privacy here'. We moved out of my parents house shortly after. I wish I could describe in words how different he was after we moved out of my parents house. He controlled my job, only giving me certain hours I could work, he wanted me in the house, saying 'I spend to much time elsewhere' and that 'I need to get used to just sitting at home'. Since he was a firefighter, I needed to share my location with him on my phone and vice versa, 'incase if anything ever happened' he told me. I wish I could count on my fingers the amount of times that he got angry at me, shut off his location, and left for hours at a time. His anger turned physical. He would yell in my face, poke my chest backwards, push me out of the way. I started to hate myself, and him. We scheduled a vacation to Cancun. Who doesn't love Cancun? Warm weather, beautiful beaches, historical landmarks, the list goes on an on. Well, a few days before we left for the trip we fought. He grabbed me by the arms and started to pull, ripping me of the couch, screaming at me to leave. It didn't hurt much then. I slept on the couch. I woke up and realized what happened when I went to get into the shower the next morning. The inside of my arms were covered in bruises from his hands squeezing and pulling me off the couch. I didn't care, because I loved him. I went to the airport in a sweater, in the middle of July, a sweater. My mom was driving us and she questioned, but she believed me when I said it was because airplanes are always cold. On the plane ride from Texas to Mexico I found him texting another girl. She had sent him pictures of her and her friends and he fawned over her. I was so upset, trying to whimper to myself on the plane, and not cause a scene. He was pissed that I went through his phone, which, I guess I would be too, but he threatened to leave me in Mexico alone. I said I was sorry for going through his things, he demanded we never spoke of it again. We broke up shortly after that trip. I felt alone and sad and I missed him. Outrageous. We got back together a month later, he had 'changed'. He loved me and was sorry for what he had done. I believed him.... I shouldn't have. We moved back in with each other six months later. He convinced me that I should just pay off his credit card debt instead of paying rent. So, thats what I did. I payed off THOUSANDS of dollars. Making 1200-1300 payments per month, mind you our rent was only 1000. Two months went by and we were in the same exact spot where we left off. I felt so angry. He booked me a trip to Disney for the two of us, it was equally as miserable as Cancun. We fought every single day. I went to the parks alone. I was miserable in the happiest place on earth. Just two weeks after this vacation we broke up. I moved back home with my parents and I still loved him. I knew that this was better for me though, and my parents really helped me get out of his mind-control. We used to talk often after the break up. We wanted to still be friends. That turned into him asking for me back, again, for the second time. I hated myself for it at the time, but I said no. Please don't ever loose yourself to someone else. You will never be the same afterwards. Real love doesn't demand you change, real love doesn't demand this and that. Real love encourages you, loves you unconditionally, and finds love in the weirdness. Today, I am so happy.

Saying goodbye sucks. It sucks even more when there’s no closure. I met a friend 6 years ago. He was this stand-up guy with whom I shared so many interests. Even the most important part of our spiritual walks were the same. At one point not too far into our acquaintance, I asked if he might be interested in hanging out. He put out there that he wasn’t in a place to be in any kind of relationship, but that he was up to hanging out. So we did.  He was my go-to guy for seeing all of the new Marvel movies because none of my girl friends were into superhero movies. We talked about deep life stuff. I was able to ask him questions from a guy’s perspective that just helped me understand the male mind a bit better. We snapped back and forth all the time. We texted. However, I suppose I was friend zoned. Meanwhile, I was hoping I was becoming a good friend that he would see was perfect for him once he was ready. So I asked if he was in a different place from the last time. This time he said that it was complicated, but he was interested in someone he had known for a while. But he really valued our friendship.  So we kept going to movies. I kept texting him about new music, or our mutual favorite pizza place. All the while, saying bro in my head, but my heart holding onto a bit of hope. Years passed. Things happened that gave me hope over the years. And then came the Instagram post introducing his girlfriend. He looked so happy. She looked so happy. I could only feel happy for him. For them. That he finally found someone to make him happy like he deserves.  The funny thing is that I removed him from my Snapchat a couple of weeks before I ever saw that Instagram post. I needed something to protect my heart just a bit more. Something to stamp down that desire to comment on his stories, to try to feel connected. I met his girlfriend, and she’s beautiful and sweet and makes sense. He’s an adventurer. She’s an adventurer. They share the same faith too. She is GORGEOUS, and the opposite color of hair as mine. It’s hard to not see who she is and not see myself as being inadequate. It’s hard to keep myself from saying, “No wonder he never pursued anything with you.”  I miss the friendship. I miss the connection. How do I get past this friendship that now when I tell my story seems so one-sided? I question whether there’s another person out there who can match up to the quality of this guy. I hope and pray that there is. You see, I never knew a two-parent, loving family growing up, and it’s my dream to have that. How do I save the hope of those dreams as I approach 35?

I have a wonderful, amazing mom. I love her to the moon and back. She has been abusing prescription medicine for a long time, probably since I was around 9 years old, but it may have started before and I never noticed. She takes all of the pills in 2 days. Keep in mind she gets 90 pills per prescription. All are muscle relaxers. We don't get along very well when she's "high". Her speech is slurred, her eyes are barely open and she stumbles when she walks. My mother has also developed a very touchy personality. You have to walk around egg shells to talk to her, because you never know how she's going to react. It's best for me to ignore her for the 2 weeks she pops pills since she has taken all of them and stays that way until it wears off. She's normal for maybe 2 weeks until she gets her meds refilled. Those 2 weeks fly by way too fast. When I was in school, she embarrassed me a lot. She would show up to school functions half of time high. Everyone knew it too. I didn't bring friends home too much because I didn't want to be more humiliated than I already was. I've had so many talks and arguments with her about this so many times I can't even count how many we've had. It seems like I was always wrong. Didn't matter what I said, I was wrong and she was right. We had a big fight a couple of weeks ago. I said how I felt about the pills are I was sick of it. I was yelling and just lost my patience with her. I didn't want to deal with it anymore. She didn't take it too well. She got angry and cried, picked up her stuff, went out the door and left. She told me not to follow her and she sped off. She had a nervous break down and made me feel like shit. I didn't talk to her for a few days. When I finally did, she told me how she felt about the whole fight. She said to quit bringing up her past and she said "I know you would pick another mom". Then she brought up how I fucked up in high school.I already knew this and she didn't bring it up until then. I had never been so angry with her in my entire life. We're okay now. I'm just waiting for the next prescription and start all over. I recently got married. I don't want my kids to around that crap like I had to. They deserve a mom, not a pill popper. I'm glad I have this website to vent and gather advice from supportive individuals. Sending love to all <3