Letting go: Pt. 1

So I have decided to do a weeks worth of posts of the things in the past that have either contributed to my eating disorder or things that I just need to let go of. So these next seven posts will be quite long. So let me start out by saying that I am so thankful for all of my followers and especially the ones who have stuck with me through both blogs. I didn't weigh myself this morning because of the fact that since I stopped the laxies, I feel extremely bloated. Maybe tomorrow. OK, so on to the first part of my letting go series: RJ
I met RJ when I was 12. I was vulnerable because I had just gotten out of a mental hospital for two weeks (after being raped for the second time in my life; but that will come later this week.) I first talked to him on the phone through a friend. He sounded so perfect and told me he would meet me on the first day of 8th grade in front of the school. He was most definitely was not what I expected. He was not good looking, but from the phone conversations, he sounded like he could make me happy. When he showed up, he had a single white rose and told me that I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The first two weeks were great. It was two weeks into our relationship when I got to see the real him for the first time. And that's the only him I knew the rest of our relationship. There was this girl at school who couldn't stand me because of the people I hung out with. So one day after school, she stopped RJ and told him that he better keep an eye on me because I "sat" on another guys lap. When I got to his house after school, he hit me. Back handed me twice and called me a whore. Then 10 minutes apologized and told me it wouldn't happened again because he didn't want to be like his father. I believed him. So foolish of me. It took 3 years of getting my hair pulled out, my nose broken twice, being raped and then forcing me to have an abortion when I was 13, to finally leave him. He took away everything. From the time I was 12 til 15, I was his property. I wasn't aloud to talk to other guys without getting hit for it. He called me fat, and ugly and the only reason why he stayed with me is because he felt bad because I couldn't "get anyone else." He was a supposed gang member who only wore red. Which in return meant I couldn't wear anything blue. He picked out all the clothes I wore and I wasn't even aloud to wear blue jeans. His gang remarks he made to others got me jumped many times by both girls and guys. He "sold" me to his friends for either money or drugs. He secluded me from all of my friends and my family. I practically lived with him because I never was home and all my clothes were at his house. He would chase me around the house with his sister's insulin needles because he knew I was terrified of them. In the course of our relationship, I tried to OD on pills 3 times. I watched him not only destroy my life, but one Christmas beat the crap out his mom. She always used to make remarks about the bruises on my body or the bald spots on my head. And now she knew. About a month before I finally had the guts to leave him, he raped me. I was asleep up until he was actually activly raping me. I screamed for him to get off of me and he told me I was going to lay there til he was finished. Once he finished, he rolled over on the bed like nothing happened. I freaked out, scraped my clothes off the floor and ran into the bathroom bawling my eyes out. I locked the door and frantically looked for something sharp. A paper clip was the only thing I could get. So as I laid on that cold, tile floor, naked, tears blurring my vision, I dug that paperclip into my skin so deep and it became a habit after that. It was a whole month later before I decided to leave. So after 3 long years or putting up with all of that, and having my body used and abused, I was ready. When I told him it was over, this feeling came over me. The feeling of freedom. And even though for months afterwards, he still stalked me, I was no longer his slave. I could hang out with who I wanted, whenever I wanted.
That is the feeling I am looking for at the end of recovery. I want to feel free. And the point of my writings this week to follow, is letting go and moving on of all the terrible things in my past. I do apologize for the post being so long, but I hope it gave you a bit of an insight to a big part of my internal issues. Much love.
XOXO Katie