That ex who will never be fully out of my life.
Because we had a daughter together.
After he pressured me to have sex even if I told him I wanted to wait until I was taking the pill (I had stopped taking it as I had been celibate for more than one year, since I was unemployed and with low income at the time), or to at least put a condom on.
That ex who accused me of making him bear responsibility for another man’s child, even though he knew I’m demisexual and wouldn’t have sex with anyone I don’t have deep romantic bonds with (not that there is anything wrong with someone doing what they want with their bodies, this is just my preference) because I became pregnant on “first try” and “the dates didn’t coincide” even after the doctor told him that the pregnancy was already considered about two weeks along at the moment of conception.
That ex who abandoned me in hospital alone with my six weeks old child because I had complications due to delivery and breastfeeding.
That ex who told my mother “you better convince her to take the epidural, it has lasted long enough” after I’d been suffering for almost 19 hours - including 7 hours with an IV drip to speed up the delivery process (doctor told me that under natural circumstances, the process would have lasted minimum 48 to 72 hours more, after 12 hours of regular, 3 minutes spaced contractions)
That ex who forced me to hand him over my grandmother’s inheritance because I was worthless and useless, since I was unemployed, and if I didn’t do it, it’d mean I was just a gold-digger.
That ex who still accused me of being a gold-digger and lazy ass and generally awful person repeatedly.
That ex who told me I was perfect for him to enact his rape fantasy because my past experiences made me an expert on how to react in case of rape, after I told him how I was repeatedly sexually abused as a child.
That ex who insisted that still being friends with the cousin who took my innocence was just a way to be friendly with my family.
That ex who told me I forced him to assume a responsibility he didn’t want - when I told him that I was fine with raising my child alone if he didn’t want her.
That ex who coerced me more often than not into performing sex acts I didn’t want to do.
That ex who tried to force me into a swingers club so I would just sit there while he would cheat on me repeatedly - I made it clear from the start that we were in a monogamous relationship and it wasn’t up to negotiation.
That ex who told me I should have had an abortion, and when I replied “then I’d probably be 6-feet under” (it was no idle words, I have a past of self-harm and suicide attempts. I recovered from it through therapy but I was fairly certain that lose my fetus would make me lose what little stability I had by the moment I found out I was pregnant… even if I hadn’t shared it with him at the time. I’m pro-choice, the emotional trauma would have been terrible on me) and he replied “Great! Yes! Then at least I would be free!”
That ex who shoved me repeatedly into the general electrical box while choking me and then flinging me through the room like a twig after I broke up with him over the abortion comments when I dared tell him I’d fight so he wouldn’t have full, equal rights on my daughter. (yes, my daughter. He lost the right to call her his the moment he wished she had never been born)
That ex who tried to convince the woman who was keeping an eye on my daughter to stop doing it so I would have to abandon my studies and be completely in his mercy.
That ex who had his lawyer call me a Medea in family court and pretend I was going to hurt my daughter just to spite him.
That ex who tried to have me put my daughter in schools with schedules that would have forced me to abandon my job.
That ex who called me a frigid bitch, gold-digger, useless slut and so many other slurs to his friends for daring dumping his ass and fighting back.
That ex who figured I’d be an easy prey, since I was seven years younger and past abuse survivor freshly out of therapy.
That ex who had two faces, and rarely showed the darker one to me overtly.
That ex who once told me “I love to manipulate people and I’m good at it, but I only do it with their best interest in mind”.
That ex I still have to see every other weekend, since the court ruled that he had the right to have my daughter over at his place for two nights, friday evening to sunday evening, every two weeks.
That ex I abhors so much I have physical rashes anytime I stay too close to him for too long, as if my body considered his very presence as poisonous.
That ex I can’t call “fatty” in front of certan people even if it’s true (he’s tall and strong and big) even if it was the only way I had to address him when I talked about what he put me through without using more explicit and offending expletives. (I am myself overweight, I just don’t think he deserves to be called by his name by me. I never address him by his name (always hey, you, and other neutral words) and when I talk about him I don’t want to use his name. He happens to have the same first name than my first love, whom I have a very fond and tender memory of. I don’t want to associate a name I love to a person I hate more than absolutely necessary. And another thing, I never use derogatory terms in front of my daughter when I talk about her father. I forbid anyone to tell a negative word to her about her father. She has the right to make her own opinion and I’m on the lookout for signs of abuse).
That ex I’m never sure saw me as an actual human being.
That ex who thinks he owns me and is entitled to my time, even if it’s almost five years since the break up and I’ve repeatedly signified that I want to have as little as I can to do with him.
That ex I’m sure is trying to convince my daughter it would be just marvelous if mommy and daddy got back together.
That ex I sometimes want to slowly and painfully emasculate with rusty tools as I’d make him feel as helpless and weak as he made me.
That ex who abused me in every way he could. I had come to terms with the emotional and physical abuse… but I only recently realized the sexual abuse too. I cannot remember one time having sex with him enthusiastically. I was always guilted, coerced, cajoled, berated… no matter what I did, it was never enough.
That ex who sexually aroused me and then went to finish himself off in front of porn while I laid frustrated and sobbing because even if I was never good enough for him (I was good at convincing myself it was what I wanted) and laughed it off when I tried to -clumsily- initiate more sexual contact because he had me so aroused I was begging for it.
That ex who forced cunnilingus or manual stimulation on me just so I would feel compelled to give him a blow or handjob, even if I told him I didn’t care about giving or receiving either (it was my abuser’s techniques, after all, and it could be easily triggering if he combined certain moves with certain words)
That ex who was certain he could get anything from me given enough time… and I realize how true it was. If he hadn’t said that he wished my daughter had never been born and then become physically abusive after the break-up… I think I’d have complied with anything. Physical violence and brute force were the only abuse I had learned to recognize.
Because… emotional abuse was something I learned was normal from a very early age. Thanks, mom. Thanks, father. Thanks, brothers. Thanks, society. You almost did your job. You almost broke me.