While reeling from what I felt was a development in cruelty towards me, and selfishness on his part, I couldn’t really muster all that much shock. It wasn’t shocking and I couldn’t figure out why there was no urgency in my response. Why I felt so comfortable and calm about the abuse I was starting to realize I was living with. And the more I reached down into myself to see why it was that it felt so empty and flat, when it should have felt sharp and agonizing, was simple, once I saw it. He’d been doing it the whole time.
I came to understand that yes, it could be anyone who could hurt me. This man who said he loved me, could hurt me. This person I was friends with most of my life, could hurt me. This man who I had helped, sheltered, followed into the darkness, and walked through the other side, could hurt me. And so anyone could hurt me. And he was hurting me, and he had been for almost as long as I had known him.