What I Remember

I don’t remember when I completely lost myself. I don’t remember when I became a shell of a person. I don’t remember being aware of it. But I do remember everything else.

I remember how handsome he looked on our first date. I remember how charming he was. I remember meeting his friends and family. I remember being so proud to be with him. I remember feeling confident. I remember feeling worthy.

I remember looking forward to every weekend. I remember feeling wanted. I remember dancing. I remember laughing. I remember being happy that I had finally found someone.

I remember the night he thought I looked at his friend the wrong way. I remember him hitting that friend. I remember him calling me a slut. I remember him leaving me downtown to find my own way home. I remember not understanding what I did wrong.

I remember when he wouldn’t kiss me goodnight because he was tired. I remember telling him it hurt my feelings. I remember him making fun of me. I remember being embarrassed that I was so sensitive.

I remember slowly losing touch with friends. I remember us spending less and less time with others. I remember telling myself it just meant he loved me.

I remember the first time he yelled at me and I woke up at my parents’ house. I remember he didn’t call and apologize. I remember when he called me a fat cunt and the time he told me to sleep on the floor because he was the one that paid for the bed. I remember him throwing my purse out the window in anger.

I remember asking him how he would feel if we had a daughter and she was being treated this way by a boy. I remember him saying he wouldn’t care. I remember crying after trips because he was always nicer to me in front of other people.

I remember never feeling good enough. If I could just do better, everything would be better. I remember thinking he was perfect. I remember thinking I was awful. I remember everything being my fault.

I remember being so excited when he finally agreed to go out to meet up with old friends. I remember him circling the bar they were at and not letting me out. I remember begging him to let us go. I remember him telling me we weren’t going anymore because I was being a bitch. I remember promising I wouldn’t be a bitch anymore.

I remember getting a hotel room in the middle of the night because I was scared of him. I remember being called crazy. I remember believing I was crazy. I remember being so anxious around him that I stopped sleeping. I remember trying to clean the whole apartment before he got home. I remember him watching TV while he listened to me cry on the floor. I remember crying in the middle of the night into a towel in the bathroom so I wouldn’t wake him up. I remember threatening suicide just to get his attention. I remember actually considering suicide.

I remember driving drunk after a fight and thinking I wouldn’t care if I crashed. I remember my dad saying it was hard to see me so sad. I remember convincing myself everything was fine. I remember thinking how lucky I was that he was willing to settle for me. I remember thinking no one else would ever want me, anyway.

I remember throwing up the day I found out he was cheating on me.

And I remember the day that I left.

Molly Brierley

About the Author | Molly Brierley

Molly Brierley is a teacher in Boston, MA, who spends most of her time collecting stickers for six-year-olds and being with family and friends. She hopes that by sharing her story, she will help others know they are not alone.

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2 comments to "What I Remember"

  • Dawn Corrado

    Molly I read this and want to cry. How dare someone treat another person so badly. I read this and I am so happy to know you were able to break free of the nightmare. Know you are never alone. You have family and friends who love you. Always reach for them when you need them.
    I am proud of you for what you have accomplished and for who you are❤️❤️

  • Froukje Matthews

    Molly, you are not alone. It is very brave of you to tell your story and indeed, it is also the safest option. The fact that you can now tell your story means that, while there will be scars, you are well on the way to healing and that is a good thing.
    I can recommend a book called “The Body Keeps the Score” by an author who was (and still is I believe) based in Boston, Bessel van der Kolk, MD, and is specialized in trauma. It was an eye opener for me….
    Lots of love,
    Froukje xo