This was back in grad school, when I ended a tumultuous two-year relationship with a guy who was all sorts of unstable. I didn’t realize it at the time, but almost all of our interactions were examples of emotional abuse. He worshipped the ground I walked on when I did what he wanted, but he screamed at me when I didn’t. He played on my fears and criticized me during fights, and he'd blackmail and threaten me if I didn’t agree with him. Once, he even left me waiting for an hour outside his dorm building, refusing to sign me in because I came back from a party later than I had promised… after which he started punching walls in front of me to scare me.
The final straw, however, came during an altercation at my gym when I was using the treadmill. He showed up to run on the track, which faced the row of treadmills I was in. Earlier we'd had an argument, and I was hoping we could ignore each other and deal with it at a later time. Instead, he started screaming at me in front of everybody at the gym. When I tried to get away, he took my arm and twisted it behind my back so I couldn’t leave. It was the first time he’d ever physically harmed me, and I ran crying to my apartment. We never spoke again.
After that, I was lost. Not only had I ended a relationship that, despite all of its flaws, meant something to me, but I also no longer had my source of solace, since I was so terrified to go to the gym again. This took its toll on me in several ways. I barely ate, I burst into tears without provocation several times a day, and I slept all the time. It was so hard to get me out of bed that my roommates used to have to force me to go to class. One time I woke up, heard a song that made me cry, and physically couldn’t leave my bed the entire day. This wasn’t at all a healthy way to live, and even though I knew that, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it.
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