Things continued to get worse in our relationship, but it was still so back and forth. Some days things were good, and we thought we wanted to spend our future together; other days all hell broke loose and I just wanted to get away.
On the sexual aspect, I had gotten to the point where I felt numb to everything, mentally and emotionally I would try to disconnect when we would do anything, because I did not want to be "there". Looking back now, I am pretty certain that he was a sex/porn addict (of course I could never get him to admit to that though). There were a lot of warning signs and evidence. There were many times where when we would have sex, I would just lay there and cry, that's all I could manage to do. The times where I was not physically crying, I was crying on the inside; I felt so miserable and dead inside, so trapped. I was in pain physically, emotionally and spiritually. I had dealt with the feelings for so long that I figured this was just my destiny, this was all my life was going to be; apparently my role in life was just to be used. I had let myself slip so far that I honestly could see no way out, no hope for my future. The only escape I could see was death, but I really wanted to refrain from suicide even though it seemed so inviting, because I did not want to hurt my family like that.
Although I must admit, there were many times were I figured me killing myself would be the better alternative to the pain that I was already causing my parents. Everything I did was disappointing to them, and I could see how bad I was hurting them because of my actions. They didn't understand what was actually going on in the relationship until later on, so they could not understand why I wouldn't leave him, and why I was doing the things I was. Many times my way to fight the urge to commit suicide, was the fact that I could imagine my little sister's finding my dead body, and that horrified me. I would picture the scene inside my head of my limp body lying on the bathroom floor, with blood stains everywhere; and my sisters finding me there. I could not bear the thought of them having to live with those images for the rest of their lives.
Granted, I was still very suicidal, I could not get the thoughts out of my mind. It felt like I was obsessed with my own death; anywhere I went, anything I did was surrounded with images of me killing myself. I was constantly imagining my death, and my funeral. When I would drive, all I could think about was how I could run my car in front of a semi truck, or drive off a cliff. At school I would picture myself hanging from the bathroom ceiling, or lying on the floor covered in blood, I even imagined bringing a gun to school to shoot myself on spot. I felt so sick in the head, so messed up. And yet I felt like there was no one I could go to, no one could save me from the mess I was in. I was terrified of the guy I was dating, of myself, and my life; everything was completely out of control and no one understood.
I felt so alone, the few friends I did have all left me except for one (as I mentioned earlier, I still feel that girl is a godsend, she was one of the very few things that kept me going). I struggled going to church because although there were some leaders that tried to help me, they didn't know what to do; and there were some that would flat-out treat me and tell me that I was going to Hell; I also got that a lot from some of my old "so-called friends). My parents didn't know the extend of what was going on, or how to help. I felt like it was me against the world; and I was some how supposed to find a way to not only save myself, but save my messed up boyfriend as well.
When Jared would threaten to kill himself, I would text his Mom, begging her to check on him, to watch him. For the first bit, she would reply to me. Then she just started ignoring me, ignoring my begging, she figured it was just a game and was annoyed by it. And his dad was a joke, he didn't care, he would even joke around about Jared killing himself. I also felt like the small town I lived in, the authorities took almost nothing seriously, everything was very lax and they didn't want to get involved in situations. So overall, I felt very alone. I was only a 16 year old teenager and I felt like I was responsible for saving two lives, two people that were very lost. Part of me wanted so badly to get away from Jared, but the other part felt like I needed him, he was the only one that I felt close to; we were both relying so much on each other for our lives (like I said, VERY codependent and very unhealthy). No one else seemed to get what was going on, or cared enough to step in to help.
One night after me and Jared had got into a big fight, I decided I would run away. I needed to get away from him, that town, the people. I wanted to get far away without having to take my life...
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