October is Domestic Violence Awareness month, and I clearly remember volunteering at the battered women's shelter every October during high school and spending time playing with the children living at the shelter, talking to the women, and hosting a candlelight vigil to remember all the women that lost their lives to an abusive husband/partner. At the vigil, they'd say the name of every woman, describe the way their partner killed them, and light a candle in her honor. Some of these stories were beyond gruesome; others were just plain unbelievable. I was always the pro-human rights advocate, the infuriated girl that went around telling women to stand up for themselves and not let anyone take advantage of them or abuse them. Ironically enough, I ended up a victim myself. I've always considered myself a strong, independent person. I am seen as the dominant partner in relationships almost all of the time, and I never thought in a million years that would happen to me. But it did. This, like anxiety, also knows no boundaries. It can strike any woman at any age and it cripples you like a bad sickness. It begins to eat away at any self-esteem you may have had and rips you apart at your core. I was with someone who, by anyone's standards, would be described as the "perfect guy." Extremely intelligent, well-versed, humble, multi-talented, attractive, and respectful towards anyone he encountered. And in the beginning, it was like that. But like any abusive relationship, we know the abuser lures the victim only to gain their trust and control, and then the pattern of abuse begins. The emotional abuse began long before the physical. He'd criticize all my friends and try to distance me from them. He would be jealous and controlling and pick an argument any opportunity he'd get. He'd call me fat and lazy, which eventually led to me fighting a battle with an eating disorder. And the word "ugly", "bitch" and "trash" became common descriptors of me. As they say, though, hindsight is always 50/50. When you are in a happy, seemingly stable relationship and the abuse is slow to grow and so subtle, you truly do not notice it happening until it's too late. This was just the beginning, though. There were bruises, bloody lips, choking, screaming, and, towards the end of our relationship just a few months ago, I called the cops as he slammed me to the ground trying to wrestle my cell phone from me and trying to cover my mouth so I couldn't scream. There were times that I was truly scared for my life. His response was always: "Well you made me do it." Or "You disrespected me and asked for it." Or "You slapped me first." (This was after, of course, him yelling at me calling me names while I was almost begging for him to stop, only to see him laughing in my face). I feel now that while physical and emotional abuse are both very traumatic experiences that are difficult to overcome, it has taken a lot longer for me to get past the emotional abuse than the physical. My bruises healed, as did my cut lips and scratches. But my self-worth and self-respect? That is hard to get back. I am not implying I'm perfect...by no means am I nor will I ever be. But the way he'd justify treating me the way he did, I began to believe I deserved the abuse and leaving him was the hardest thing I ever did because despite it all, I thought I loved him. I thought I loved a perfect man who just had an anger problem. I was in denial. I write this because on the outside, none of my friends could have ever imagined the abuse that occured within our relationship. They thought, everyone did, that we were crazy for each other and happily in love. But abuse is real, and most of the time it is behind closed doors so it is difficult to get the victim the help they need. Currently in my life, I can count on one hand the number of people that know about the abuse that I went through with my ex...it is definitely an experience I am ashamed to talk about but only by talking to others and bringing about awareness can we begin to help others and give battered women everywhere the chance to stand up and walk away from the dangerous situations they are in. No one should have to live in fear. It is almost exactly 6 months since I walked away...and I am not looking back. As difficult as it has made it for me to trust anyone, especially men, I refuse to let this ex to continue to have control over me.