Trigger Warning: This story contains descriptions around topics such as domestic violence, physical violence, and harassment. Please proceed with caution.

When I was almost 20, I started dating someone I knew in high school. I was good friends with one of his family members and knew he came from a good family with strong morals. I also was aware of his struggles with substance use, however, I was always under the impression he had a handle on it. We became very close very fast, and I realize now it was love bombing.

“The love bombing feels so good, it’s hard to distinguish if it’s real or not.”

COVID-19 came and he lost his job, and that’s when things changed. He started using more, binging, and became a different person. I was so attached at this point, I was scared if I left something bad would happen to him. This is when things started to become emotionally and mentally abusive, but he wasn’t hitting me so I didn’t realize it for what it was. The threats escalated as time went by, ranging from “Well I guess we won’t hang out tonight” to “Then I’m done with this relationship”. The yelling would get more intense until I would cave and give in to what he wanted. I stood by him as he went to rehab, would drive hours to see him for less time than I spent driving, and so much more.

Two years into our relationship, he decided to move to a different province, and once summer break came I packed up my car and moved out there too. Thankfully, I had to return home for school that August, but while we were there, things got even worse. That’s when his drinking became worse because he couldn’t access his drug of choice, and he eventually got a DUI while I was home for my undergraduate graduation ceremony. He spent a week in jail, and I took time off work to attend court and pick him up. When we returned home that fall, that’s when things got physical. We moved into our own apartment, where there were no parents to keep him in check. Substance use went up again and so did the threats, which now changed to “Get me a beer or I’ll break your nose”. One night, when we were on our way home from visiting our parents, he got so upset he threw his phone at my face, giving me a black eye, and hit my windshield so much it cracked.

The final straw came 2 months later when he was screaming at me to buy him drugs, forced me to drive to a local dive bar to meet his dealer, and then when I refused to hand over cash, he started hitting me. Bystanders dragged him out of the car, called the cops, and reported my plate when we drove away. I watched him argue with the cops, resist arrest, and be arrested in front of our home. I was devastated, ruined, and at a total loss. And the worst part is he was my biggest concern, not myself.

How do you think someone in this situation can find themselves again?:  It’s a cycle, and it’s easy to accept the bare minimum of that’s all you’ve ever known love to be. The love bombing feels so good, it’s hard to distinguish if it’s real or not.

How do you think your experience could help others?: I use my experience to practice trauma-informed care as a registered behaviour analyst. I think sharing my story helps my clients understand that I do know what it’s like to go through trauma and come out the other side.