Girl, you best back up. / Don’t you go near him. / Stay away from that man. /
(ahem)
Dear Woman,
I know the depth you see when you look into his deep brown eyes.
I know the security you feel when he wraps his arms around you.
I know the feel of his broad hands in your own.
I know the glint in his eyes when he finds your actions cute, funny, adorable.
I know, acutely, the desire to see the best in him realized.
And I know you know all these things at least as well as I did.
But I’ma tell you what I wish I knew when I was in your place.
The depth you see in his eyes is cold, dark, and unrelenting.
The security of his arms will become controlling, stifling, a step beyond possessive.
Those broad hands form iron fists capable of the destruction of anything you ever thought yourself to be.
The glint in his eyes will be used to manipulate you into negating your own emotions and your own self-worth for his.
And the desire to see the best in him? It will never be fulfilled.
You know, before you came around, I almost had him convinced to go to counseling. Do you know how long that took?
How many seconds I chipped at that unfeeling ego?
How many days I spent speaking to the brick wall of his pride?
How many weeks I confronted the dishonesty he has with all of Christendom, including—most dangerously including—the dishonesty he has with himself?
How many months I maintained civil conversation with him in hopes of there never being another female facing that facade?
Of there never being another woman he reduced to body-wracking sobs— the kind you try to hide from your roommates, from your neighbors, by turning on your music; the tears you try to ignore by washing them away in the shower,
even as you gasp for breath?
As you fight to stand?
Of there never being another one of us to have to face the realization of how much of herself she sacrificed for someone who couldn’t even be true to himself?
…And having to start the arduous journey—alone—back up from the depths of hell he dragged her into?
Having to confront the face he gave her in exchange for all her love?
50,025,600 seconds
833,760 minutes
13,896 hours
579 days
82 weeks
19 months
For myself, for the women he did this to before me, and for the women that would come after me—FOR YOU—I spent that time.
He told me he’d never change. And before I had the stomach to admit to myself just what he was, I, like any woman who loves, assured him I didn’t want him to change.
With 20/20 hindsight, that was a bald-faced lie. To myself even more than to him.
I’m telling you these things so that YOU NEVER HAVE TO TELL THEM TO YOURSELF.
For the love of whomever you believe yourself to be now, RUN IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION FROM HIM.
Because if you don’t, that girl? The girl you are now?
You will never see her again.
Sincerely,
The girl who doesn’t give a damn how crazy you think she is
Written by Bree Goodwin
Posted on 11-10-12
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