Morgan’s Story:

Something I have always wanted to talk about is why we are let down so hard. We hookup with him or her for a few months and then get our hearts smashed on the pavement when we, god forbid, decide to expect something once they say “I really like you!” We get our hopes up when a parent says they are coming to visit, because we think that means they might decide to come back to our family. We see the best in the friends that treat us the worst because we only remember the good memories and the years of friendship that all built up to this. When he says all the right things after doing all the wrong things he has earned his place back in your life.

I look at these wonderful women with beautiful clothing and so much potential and I ask myself why the hell they are settling for a piece of sticky trash. And this was me. I was one of these women, minus the beautiful clothing, who settled for not only a piece of sticky trash but one that stuck.

When they told me he was bad for me I left the friend group. When he brought me flowers after hitting me drunk, I called my best and last friend raving about what a great boyfriend he was. When I woke up with tear stained swollen eyes I blamed it on my dramatic reaction to him telling me that I was a slut who didn’t get into a sorority because I had “probably fucked each girls boyfriends behind his back.” I didn’t even rush so how could this be true? Somehow I believed him. Maybe the girls thought I was a slut and assumed I had fucked all of their boyfriends?

It was two years of complete nonsense and I did it to myself. I’m 26 now but three years ago I thought that I’d never make it. He’d either emotionally kill me or I’d physically kill myself. I wasted 21,22, and part of 23. I sat alone in my dorm room crying on my 21st birthday while he yelled at me for something I can’t even remember. I wasn’t allowed to pregame with my girlfriends and I wasn’t allowed to go out with my sister in Vegas for her bachelorette party. If I even spoke I was in the wrong. If I told him he looked good, I was yelled at: “you’re just saying that because you want to make me feel better for cheating on me.” I never even talked to another guy because I was so afraid of what he would do.

I got out of it, and so can you.

I got out of it after years of soaking my eyes in cold wash cloths the next morning to take the puffiness down. I got out of it after years of begging old friends to let me hide in their apartments. After years of being held prisoner on my birthday. I never experienced a real college pregame without the end of the night being a crime scene. If I talked to a boy in class I was yelled at. If I was in a group project with a boy I was yelled at and monitored. If I talked to a girl I was yelled at. If I went to my friends room to hang out I was yelled at. If I wore a shirt that showed a patch of skin I was yelled at. If I didn’t text back within 30 seconds I was yelled at. It got to the point of existence being my biggest and worst fear. I was yelled at for standing, talking, and listening.

What finally did it was my mother. She sat me down and asked me one question that changed everything: “do you still get butterflies when you see his name pop up on your phone screen?”

I couldn’t stop thinking about that question. When his name would pop up on my phone screen the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach still gives me PTSD. Love isn’t supposed to be horrifying. I couldn’t think of anything that was “right” in our relationship. Everything was wrong.

The biggest lesson I learned throughout all of this: You won’t get the love you want if you deserve better.

I am now dating an incredible human being that changed everything. At the beginning of the relationship all I could do was fear that the same thing would happen. I was letting the past get in the way of safety. I learned that no matter what it takes it is so important to let life treat you well. You can’t control the twists and turns, but you can learn from them. I learned the truths of life the hard way, but at least I learned them.