One In Three

One in three adolescents will be involved in an abusive dating relationship before high school graduation. 

I was one in three. I was young and had no clue what a healthy relationship was supposed to look like. I thought his need for ALL of my attention was a sign of devotion. I thought his desire for control was a sign of protection. I thought his jealousy was a sign of love. No one told me those were warning signs. I was clueless of the coming devastation. I had no idea I was about to lose me. 

Abuse was not present from day one. It was progressive over the course of the relationship. First he wanted ALL my time and attention. If I didn’t want to spend every free minute with him, I was accused of not loving him.  Then, he began orchestrating division between friends and family. 

But, “he loved me.” 

“He cared for me like he had never cared for anyone.” 

“I was his everything.” 

That’s what he quoted to me over and over. 

As an adolescent, my view of abuse was limited. Black eyes. That’s it. That was what I thought women who were abused looked like. But, he spent six months demolishing the girl I was. Tearing down my trust in others, breaking my independence, shredding my confidence, and squelching my ambitions. Then, the next phase began. 

First, he threw pillows in anger. Then objects. He started covering holes in the wall with posters. Gradually, the proximity of the holes progressed from across the room to inches from my head. This still wasn’t “abuse” to me. It did not fit into the context of my definition of black eyes.  And, he was really a great guy. He was just having a rough time. Sports really stressed him out. I could change him. I could love him enough that it would fix him. I knew the REAL him. He could be better. That’s what I told myself over and over. 

Next were the small arm grabs or pinches to get my attention. Then, my arms and neck became a steering wheel to make sure I didn’t look or veer in an unsatisfactory direction. Eventually came the pushing, the hair pulling, the choking, and the hitting. 

Then and only then was I aware of the predicament I was in. I realized I couldn’t change him. I tried to get out. But the threats started. He threatened to kill himself. Then he threatened to take my life and his to be sure I was never with anyone else. Then, came the threats against my family. And, let me tell you, he was very convincing to a young girl. Especially when he had a gun to his head or mine and a knife to my throat. 

Finally, a public incident brought freedom. I was able to break away and stay away. It was difficult though. He was persistent. Having friends pass me notes and talk to me about taking him back. On the outside everyone only knew the “good guy” he had the image of. They had no idea who he really was. I had hid the bruises well and became an expert at making my stories sound plausible. 

After the break-up, he stalked me. He had a way of showing up anywhere I was. He threatened any guy that he caught talking to me. He coerced guys who sat near me in class to move across the room away from me. AND WE WEREN’T EVEN DATING. He called my house endlessly. Drove by and “ran out of gas” on purpose. Followed me around stores. This behavior continued for several years.

Every time I tell my story, I’m asked why I didn’t call the cops. My response…”As a sheltered teenage girl who didn’t realize what was happening before it was too late and who thought she was about to lose her life, what would you do?”

First off, I was young. I had it beaten into me that it was my word over his. Secondly, I didn’t want to be responsible for him harming himself and I thought I was protecting myself and my family from injury. Third, I grew up in a “Friday night lights” kind of town and he was “somebody” to them…who did I think would get the short end of that deal? So, rather than risk making him angrier or fighting to convince others of my story, I kept quiet and tried to slink away.

This story is my story, but chances are one in three of you reading this see similarities that parallel your life. Today, the statistics haven’t changed. I have the honor of talking with students on a regular basis and there is still a gap in relaying vital information about the warning signs of abuse. There is still a huge misconception about what abuse actually is. Now, our society has the technology hurdle to overcome.  Texting, social media, and hidden apps on phones and tablets make it easier to manipulate and abuse others. The abusive patterns are the same, they just have an extra layer that makes them look different.

Possessiveness, jealousy, control, manipulation, and isolation are all red flag behaviors. Physical forms of abuse include more than hitting, kicking, or pushing. Then there’s verbal abuse, sexual abuse, and the destruction of property to make note of. Let’s make sure we are all educated on what abuse actually looks like. Know the warning signs. 

If you’re in this situation, hear me say you can’t change them. Missionary dating is not an option. You can’t make them good. To change someone takes a much higher power. Recognize the warning signs and get out. 

I was one of the fortunate ones. I made it out alive. There were several moments I questioned if that would happen. But in some ways, I did die. The me that walked into that relationship did not walk out. That girl was forever changed. The woman God created me to be took a drastic detour. And I’m still, over 20 years later, trying to find out more of who she is. 

Let’s stop this trend. 

Shalom, Peace, Love.