“It is a risk to love.
What if it doesn’t work out?
Ah, but what if it does.”

― Peter McWilliams

I met my love, Micheal in 2015. Just a post to appreciate my love for him.


I was blessed to have his family accept and appreciate me where my family could not. These earrings are his grandmothers and the ring is his high school ring. Hopefully, I’ll get it to fit my finger. 🙂

It is hard to believe that I was afraid to love him. Foolish.

Our lovely cat, Owen.



Write about your traumatic experience. Be as detailed as you can with what happened and how it made you feel, both emotionally and physically.


“Millions of people have decided not to be sensitive. They have grown thick skins around themselves just to avoid being hurt by anybody. But it is at great cost. Nobody can hurt them, but nobody can make them happy either.”— Osho

Honestly, I’m still only a shell of who I used to be. Some of my most painful moments, I assumed weren’t painful at all. At the time, I was stung. Stung by the experience of being swept off my feet and dropped. Open relationships, are a type of relationship that I was not good at. My mother ignoring me and leaving me at home, made it so I craved attention, even some of the most basic interactions.

When I met him, I had just gotten out of a nightmare of a relationship.

My previous ex was a really deranged individual. They were violent. I was never physically harmed, but the injury he gave me was so harsh that I left the relationship in tatters. I remember them watching movies with rape, killing, and extreme violence and loving it  and watching with a smirk on their face. Enjoying pain is one thing, but the look of exhilaration when a woman was being tortured made me question my sanity for staying with them. The abuse began about two months after we were together. The relationship with him never felt right. I was intoxicated by the thrill.

The thrill meant leaving my family, to live with this person. Coming home to cook for and take care of them. After a while, they began flirting in front of me. It was only this year, that I realized how much control they had over where we went. They took me to the same bars, to show me off and at the same time make me feel jealous. Which is such a mind fuck that I have no eloquent words to describe it. I remember when we stopped having sex. By “we” I mean they stopped responding and initiating sexual contact. Until recently, I did not understand that this is an abuse tactic. When you control sex, you also control the relationship. Sex is something that sets platonic relationships apart from a romantic one.

After a month or so without sex, I began to be exhausted. As a 23 year old, I felt unattractive. Not only unattractive but I thought I could so more to be more attractive. My mothers voice would ring through my head. ” YOU SHOULD TAKE BETTER CARE OF YOURSELF. You look like you don’t care about your own hygiene.” That line used to infuriate me. I never knew wha she meant by it, and honestly she never taught me how to feel as if I deserved it.

My ex did the same. They began emotionally abusing me. Forcing me to visit them ( we lived a few blocks away from each other after I moved out). They no longer showing interest in anything that would allow me to be the main focus of attention. They began to call me ‘broke’,’bitch’, telling me to ‘shut the fuck up’, being upset that I changed a kitty litter box, flirting with other people in my face, and abusing alcohol and misusing medications.

After a while, I began to hate them. I was at the time chain smoking cigarettes. I remember just being stressed. Their behavior mimicked my mother and I began to feel the smothering of another sick individual wrapping itself around my neck like a snake.

So when they left out of town, I packed my bags at their house and left.

After the end of that relationship, I met him, let us call them CT. CT lived close to me. They began talking to me on a whim. It was so fast that before I knew it, I was being swept off my feet. This action was actually CT pulling the rug from under my feet. They weren’t really a person that I took seriously, until I was in love, and they had already had their next woman ready to pounce on.

My life shifted to be with CT. I would go to their house, cook dinner with them, play their favorite card games, meet their friends, etc. The only thing I could never do is meet their family. As a black woman, this happens often if you date outside of your race. After CT told me this, I remember weeping in the shower. My gasps were audible, and my mind was fuzzy for the rest of the time of the we spent together.

CT had me convinced that an open relationship was the best bet for us. I agreed, assuming that I was in charge of my emotions for this person. I was still raw from the ex, and still lived close to them. I figured CT wanting to have sex with me brought up my stock as a woman. That if a man like him can like me, that I was finally worth something.

The shift in the relationship happened gradually. If I had to cancel a plan, and found out that I actually had time, he had already filled his schedule. I would invite him to hang out with my friends, and if they were not doing something that he felt interested in, her would have to leave. Little did I know, that one of his friends had already snagged him.

The final straw came when I just felt so warn out and used sexually that I wanted no part of CT. The relationships with my ex and CT, were two sides of the same coin. One was a narcissist that uses sex as control, usually not wanting sexual advances until they see fit. The other used sex to get back a women that hurt him previously. I somehow was blind enough to become victims of both.

Eyes are no longer shut.