*TW: mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation*

Photo by Melissa Munroe

Love did not feel the same after December of sophomore year. The “relationship goals” from Instagram suddenly became fairy tales. Basic decency and appreciation were nonexistent. My dreams of big teddy bears on Valentine’s Day or even someone taking the time to write me a love poem or letter disintegrated with my emotional well-being once I shut it all down for the last time. And, gosh, I don’t want this to become an essay about hurt on the day celebrating love, but love and hurt became best friends in my brain after those eight months.

I feel guilty and weird talking about something that happened almost four years ago like I’m still attached to something I need to let go of. And I promise I have, but healing is never linear. I only learned that at age seventeen.

Emotional manipulation in relationships is a demon that burrows itself tightly under the victim’s empathy and dresses in a pretty little costume until it shows its true face after the ordeal is over. So, you think the big fights over small topics are normal, and the on-and-offs of the relationship are all part of the ups-and-downs. You start to believe cheating needs no punishment and insults are simply one-sided jokes you’re not allowed to return. You sacrifice your dignity and well-being just so they are willing to keep you around a little longer. And you don’t leave because you just can’t, and you don’t know how to explain it.

Valentine’s Day is not traumatic for me. I lean less towards the capitalist Hallmark version of the holiday, but celebrating love is beautiful to me. But every day before and after that, I fail to figure out how to properly express love, both to myself and others. I isolate myself and claim it’s a version of self-love, convincing myself that alone time is always better than being with others. I distance myself from my friends at random moments because I know when I need space, but being alone for too long elicits feelings of loneliness that caused me to repeat the same cycle. I blame trust issues for my inability to express and experience love, but where did that come from?

I first learned about emotional manipulation, as well as emotional and mental abuse, a few months after my first relationship. A woman came into my tenth grade English class to speak about abusive relationships, but I never considered what I went through as a form of abuse. It was then that I first heard my exact experiences repeated back to me; all of the trauma sunk in, and I cried when I got home. I cried when I wrote about it in poems and songs during junior year. I cried about it before I wrote this, and I'm now in my senior year.

High school relationships are not the end-all and be-all of your life. If anything, I wish I had listened to my mother when she said, “no boyfriends until you’re 18.” But I wouldn’t change my past, and I would never wish to go back and change anything because I did what I could. I learned what a healthy relationship is and what it is not. I learned what love in all forms is and what it is not. I am still learning and unlearning, as we all are. I’m lucky to have people in my circle who encourage me to do so.

I write this not to dampen the beauty of February 14th because I now adore that holiday. It reminds me of sweet scents and candy grams, and I want to write a song about it and about the new person in my life who shows me what Valentine’s Day and every day before and after should feel like. I write this instead to spread awareness to those who feel as though their past issues were “never that serious” or “old problems you should just get over.” I want you to understand that it is okay to love again, that it is safe to love again, and that it all starts with yourself. Cry. Scream. Laugh. Throw a pillow or punch it (I’m not promoting violence, and I don’t want you to get hurt). Celebrate Valentine’s Day with a candle or a box of chocolates, or kiss your reflection in the mirror. Take those first steps to heal, no matter how big or small they may be.