- [Voiceover] I always imagined the story of my first love
would be a magical one, not a cautionary tale.
(ambient music)
I had just started college in Chicago.
I was so fun and carefree and feisty.
I felt like I was invincible and ready
to take over the world.
I was fearless, and then I met him.
He was so handsome and charming.
Our first date was a walk in the park.
I remember he pointed out that I had a burr
in my nose and I was super embarrassed.
He asked me to be his girlfriend a few months later,
and of course I said yes, and that's when things changed.
I slowly stopped hanging out with my friends.
It was always just me and him.
It went as far as him creating a rift
and ruining the trust between my best friend and I.
Me and her didn't speak for almost two years.
He would get upset at me and he would
break my cell phone so I couldn't talk to anyone.
He was convinced that I was cheating on him.
He would get upset at me for saying hi to my guy friends
on the street, but that should have been a sign right there.
He was emotionally abusive and he made me
feel like every decision I made was wrong.
I felt that nothing I did could make him happy.
The first time he hit me, I was convinced
that it was my fault and that my attitude made him upset,
and maybe if I didn't talk back,
things would get better between us.
The moment I knew that I had to get out of the relationship
was when he knocked me down and I fell and I hit my head.
It wasn't the first time he hit me,
but it was the first time I felt really scared.
I called my best friend and I finally told her the truth,
and she said she was coming to get me
and I was staying with her in the suburbs.
While I was packing, he came home early
and was livid when he saw that I was leaving.
I didn't realize the situation got out of hand
until he pulled a kitchen knife on me.
He told me, if you leave me you're gonna kill me,
so you may as well kill me now.
And only then did my brain register danger.
My best friend came at the nick of time.
She called the cops, and that's when he slit his wrists.
The cops came and took him to the hospital.
I felt so guilty.
I was an empty shell of myself.
I was apologizing for my very existence.
I had no voice, I had no identity.
I was seeking approval from everyone except myself.
Much to my regret, I did end up going
back to him a few months later.
We were off and on again.
It was a tug of war between my loneliness,
and depression and vulnerability.
I was trying to find peace with myself,
and I wanted to forgive him so I wasn't
carrying the hatred that I felt for him.
I found myself in an all-too-familiar situation
when I felt that he was trying to knock me down a size
again, and things with us weren't truly done
until about another year and a half later
when he moved to a different state.
I always thought, how could this happen to someone like me?
I was a good girl, I wasn't raised
in a household with domestic abuse.
All of my friends had normal relationships.
What was wrong with me?
Why did he feel he had to hit me?
Once he was gone for good, I rediscovered
the things that made me happy again.
I threw myself into my career, I had new friends
and love interests, I had a therapist
who I saw once a week, and she helped me
build myself back together again.
If you're going through this, I want you to know
to pay attention to the signs.
It's hard because your emotions are clouded and you're
in love, but love is supposed to make you feel good.
It should always lift you up.
Listen to your friends, they care.
Don't forget that you are still a good person,
because you deserve all the happiness in the world,
and you're worth it.
(ambient music)
(whooshing)