I’ve been there. You know the type of guy, charming at first, all sweet words and promises. But those words, they turn sharp, like knives in your chest when you least expect it. You start to wonder if it’s all in your head, if maybe you’re overreacting. But deep down, you know it’s not. He’s not the one you thought he was. And those words, they cut deeper than anything physical ever could. They stay with you. They echo in your mind, long after you’ve left.

But let me tell you about the part no one talks about, the part that sits deep in your gut. The part where your body is used like a thing, a piece of property. The part where you stop seeing yourself as a person, but as a vessel to fulfill someone else’s needs. When sex becomes a weapon, a currency, something to barter with just to keep the peace. You don’t even remember when you first started using it that way. At first, it’s about keeping him happy. But then it becomes about making yourself feel good in a world that’s making you feel worthless. When he doesn’t touch you because he wants you, but because it’s his control, his power. And somehow, you start to believe that this is what love is, this is the only way anyone will ever want you.

That kind of abuse doesn’t just break your heart, it shatters how you see intimacy. You start to dissociate from your body. You learn how to turn it off, how to pretend it doesn’t hurt, how to make it feel like it’s not really happening. So when the next guy comes around, when the next relationship starts, you’re already damaged. You’re already numb. And the idea of connection, of closeness, is so tangled up in all the wrong things that you don’t even know how to differentiate between real love and just another way to distract yourself from the pain.

Sex becomes a coping mechanism, a temporary escape from the dark thoughts, the memories of him using you, manipulating you. You tell yourself it’s okay. It’s fine. You feel powerful in the moment, like you’re in control, like you can take back something, anything, from the control you lost. But the truth is, it leaves you emptier each time. It leaves you more broken. You might tell yourself that it’s just physical, but the emotional scars follow you into bed. They follow you into the next person’s arms. And they leave you wondering why you can’t get past the baggage.

The thing they don’t tell you is that abuse doesn’t just affect your relationship with that person. It spills into every damn thing after it. Every hand that tries to touch you in love, every person who says they care. But all you see is the reflection of a monster you tried to escape.

The little things mess you up the most. A guy raises his voice even a little? I freeze. His anger starts creeping into my chest, and I’m back there, back in that place where I felt small, where I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Every conflict feels like a ticking bomb, like I’m about to be blown apart again.

Trust? Ha. That’s a joke now. You know what happens when you’ve trusted someone who said they loved you only to have them turn into a beast? You stop trusting. You stop believing anyone can actually care about you, because the one person who should have cared destroyed that.

And when the next relationship comes, you tell yourself it’s different. They’re not him. They’re calm, they’re sweet. But what you don’t realize is that every word, every gesture, is seen through a lens of fear. Fear that they’ll turn, that they’ll break you like the last one did. And when they don’t… you feel guilty for not being able to just let it go. For not being able to be “normal.”

But here’s the hardest pill to swallow: it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for it, you didn’t cause it. But it stays with you. It changes you. And sometimes, the worst part is that you can’t even tell if it’s the abuse that ruined your relationships, or if it’s just you. Are you broken, or were you made this way?

I can’t promise you that it gets better with time. I can’t promise you that the scars will fade. But I will tell you this: the pain? It’s not forever. You may never forget it, but you will learn to live with it. And eventually, you’ll find someone who doesn’t make you afraid of love, someone who shows you that sex and love can still be gentle, even after everything you’ve been through.

But until then? You’ll keep fighting. Keep healing. Because you’re stronger than you think, even when the world seems determined to show you otherwise. You owe it to yourself to believe in a love that won’t tear you down. And when you do, you’ll see that there’s so much more to you than the damage he left behind.