B started calling me in the fall of 2001. At first it was innocent – quick conversations, short glances, brief encounters. But by early 2002, the relationship was much more serious than I could have ever anticipated. Quick conversations turned into lengthy discourse, short glances became glaring stares, and brief encounters became hours-long visits.
B knew I was vulnerable when he first contacted me. I was depressed and longing for acceptance. He sensed my weakness and offered a way of escape. B was seemingly intuitive and caring and saw what others didn’t. He really understood the place I was in. He could help me feel better. B would save me from myself. He could rescue me. Armed with the false hope and empty promises B provided, I was ready. Ready to be happy, ready to feel comfortable in my own skin, ready to release all the anguish pinned up inside. And so, I listened to B.
There were many details B failed to tell me about himself in the beginning. For instance, he hadn’t told me that once I started talking to him I would find it difficult to rationalize and that I would obey his every command. He had also failed to mention that each time we exchanged glances he was making a long list of things about me he wanted to change. He also neglected to reveal his plans to ruin my life and the lives of my husband and children. He disguised himself as one genuinely concerned for my happiness. He cloaked himself with robes of self-discipline and perfection. He wore slippers which made absolutely no sound, so I could never hear him coming.
By the time I figured out who B was, it was late 2002 and I was smothered by his overpowering hold.
It was too late. There was no way out. He had deceived me so completely that I wouldn’t have known the truth had it slapped me in the face. I had fallen deeper into depression and self-hate rather than being freed from it. I had become his slave. I felt powerless against him but had nowhere to turn. I had hidden my relationship with him. No one even knew B existed, and no one could find out.
Deep down I knew it was true. B was a deceiver. B was a manipulator. B was a disease. B was bulimia. And, B had come to destroy my life.
(This is part 1 of 6 by Deidra; I will post part 2 next Friday. Please visit her here)