In 2005, I had just graduated high school and I was in a relationship with a girl I had started dating that February. The first few months it was okay, but something didn't rest with me. My intuition was going wild and I didn't listen to it. 

I decided pretty early that, no matter what, I was moving to Chicago for college. I was getting ready to leave my small, North Jersey town and that summer was when things took a turn. The emotional abuse started small. Petty insults, reminding me how I was [poorer] than her. She would buy [me] things or get her family to help pay for trips. She would constantly remind me I would be nothing without her. Eventually, she would get jealous of how much time I was spending with my friends so she systematically had me distance myself from them. She would start fights for no reason, or take her teenage anger out on me because she could. Almost every day was spent with her berating me and insulting me. The insults gradually got worse and she graduated to full on public embarrassment. She went as far as trying to turn me away from my mother and brother, saying that her family was the only one I needed. 

Eventually, when I moved, her power did weaken just because of sheer geography, but I have many memories of arguments on the phone. Finally, she made me uproot what little life I had made. I transferred schools, packed up, and that's what brought me to Philadelphia. Unsurprisingly, as soon as I moved back east, she was all of a sudden less interested in seeing me. We didn't fight as much, but also I was very lonely. Her grip was still very strong on me. That summer was the last one we spent together and during that time there were more fights, more insults, and more abuse, [including sexual abuse and physical threats].

When I first moved to Philly, I got a job at a pizza place in Old City that is no longer there. I was a grill cook. I'd make cheese steaks, pull pizzas from the oven, and work the fryer. I was still attending classes full time so this was a strictly night time position. I had always liked cutting the pizzas because it was a simple task that you could get lost in. All of a sudden I felt a pinch. I looked down and I noticed that I had overcut and the blade of the pizza cutter had bit into my left arm. I took the cutter, put it into the sink, then ran cold water over the cut and applied pressure with a paper towel. It quickly stopped bleeding and I went back to work because it was busy. When I got home hours later, I thoroughly cleaned the cut. This is a scar that, despite how superficial the initial injury was, has persisted with me for nearly 20 years. 

Since that relationship ended, I married and divorced, came out as trans, transitioned, and I had a couple healing relationships that helped me along the way.  In late spring of 2022, [I was going through a hard time with another break up and a job layoff]. [My best friend] had brought chocolate and we were watching one of my "self-care" shows. I was very sore from a soccer game I had the previous night and I was nursing an injury. I said something about how I'll be okay and she just looked at me and said "You're already in a lot of emotional pain right now. It's unfair to be in that much physical pain too." I honestly teared up a little bit. I have never felt so validated in my life. I have the unfortunate combination of stubbornness, a competitive nature, and a high tolerance so I typically don't show [I’m in] pain. I've never had anyone acknowledge that I was in that much pain, [and that] the physical and emotional are connected. I had never been shown that much kindness and understanding before then, and it truly changed me and helped me learn I'm worthy of care and being cared for.

This past year, my ex found me on facebook and messaged me. I had completely changed my name and my face and I had long lost touch with anyone we mutually knew at that time. I have put years into therapy and preparing for this encounter. I said that she put me through some very bad abuse during that time. She replied that she had blocked out most of her memories, but she was sincerely sorry. She admitted that she treated me poorly and all I did in return was show her love. I left it at that, simply said thank you, and never spoke to her again. Years ago I would have screamed at her, but now I just felt what I needed to feel and moved on. I didn't forgive her, I don't need to. Years of therapy and emotional work brought me to a better understanding of who I was and who was worth my energy, and she wasn't worth it.

I remind myself every day, “You are worthy of love and you deserve better.” That scar [from the pizza cutter on my wrist] has persisted this entire time, and now every time I look at it I think about where I was and how happy I am to never have to be there again. Nobody deserves to be manipulated or forced to be someone they're not. Nobody deserves to be a victim. This culture needs to stop victim blaming, and turn a mirror back onto the very culture that perpetuates that practice.