You say you’re worried about me.

You say you want to help.

You say you think I am suffering because I finally said I deserve more, because I said that I want to work on being loyal to myself. That I said that I can’t accept the bare minimum anymore.

It wasn’t me curled up next to you, unable to speak because I was choking on my tears, accepting how unworthy I am and accepting the rules I needed to follow, that caused you to worry.

It wasn’t when you told me you finally broke me.

It wasn’t when I told you my nervous system from being left and lied to back to back was so fried I could barely function.

It wasn’t when I was in the parking lot in the pouring rain screaming and begging you to love me again to the point of hysteria.

It wasn’t when I broke apart for days having to listen to you tell me you needed to sleep with other people before taking me back.

It wasn’t when you watched me cower and apologize for the way you had hurt me.

It wasn’t when you watched me get ready to make a decision that I still have nightmares about every night, and chose to let me walk in to the flames when I needed help so badly, knowing the pain and horror I was about to experience because I “should have known better”.

It wasn’t when you told me you would do it again, knowing I wasn’t in control.

Maybe then, it’s your own suffering you’re seeing.

You never really saw mine, and that’s okay. I really, really want to believe that it’s just because I’m not your person. You told me once before that you never really loved me. I want to believe that you are capable of feeling someone else’s pain on a deeper level, that you would genuinely do anything to prevent the person you loved from harm. That lying and deceiving that person would tear you apart. I hope it was just that I wasn’t her. What an incredibly mediocre life that would be to never love someone so much that when they are truly suffering, you wouldn’t be able to whistle to a song next to them, or sleep peacefully, or walk away from them and leave them to hurt alone. I hope you find that person. I hope you realize the things I was saying all along wasn’t me being too needy, it was me experiencing true love and just wanting to feel it back.

I have been suffering.

I still am suffering.

I will be for a long time.

But choosing to stop allowing myself to be reminded of all that’s wrong with me, to be reminded how much I am hated by so many. Choosing to stop believing that I don’t deserve compassion because I am broken. Choosing to believe that I deserve to feel safe, and protected. Choosing to accept that things might not be ok.

That’s not suffering.

That’s strength.