Source of Aggression : from victim to abuser.

Hi, my name is Sandra. It took me a while to realise what i had become after the relationship. I was raised in a violent home. Both my parents were alcoholics and drug addicts. Being the only child made my situation worse,having no one to talk to or comfort me when my parents fought.

Most times, i found myself receiving kicks and blows if i didn’t do things the way my parents wanted. If the neighbors’ pet pooped on the lawn, it was my fault. If dad’s team didn’t win the championships, i was the punching bag. Mum on the other hand was a sore critic and sarcastic. Nothing good came out of her mouth except on very rare occasions when she was genuinely happy and not high on drugs.

They fought most days, accusing each other of adultery and regrets of why they ever set eyes on each other. I was lucky enough to proceed to the university and leave home behind. And this was a rare occasion. Mum and dad were happy and for once in my life i felt loved as a daughter should.

I loved my new uni. Freedom. The air smelt of freedom,ripe for the taking. The sophomore year went well, i knew all my classmates and made friends.

I am a loner. A social loner. Meaning i do interact with people but i prefer being alone. What i meant by ‘knowing’ my course mates was that i knew they existed ,knew their faces and names but not personally.

The second year of uni was not that awesome. I had financial issues. Mum and dad seemed to have forgotten me. Abandoned me. There was no support at all from home. I took up casual jobs and started my own business,using the online platform as a social media advertiser to generate income.

The pressure from home stressed me out. Mum got hospitalized after a brutal fight that led to her overdosing, dad got jailed for battery and drunk driving. What was i to do?

Bhang. I heard it was a feel-good-drug and yes it was. Mum got happy after using it, who am i to turn down such an opportunity? My head got clear and my troubles felt a million miles away. I was lighter with every roll i lit, higher and braver. After classes and exchanging pleasantries with my associates, i would lock myself up in my studio apartment and smoke for an hour or two then embark on my homework and online gigs.

My life revolved around class and my apartment until someone disrupted the cycle. Brian.

He was cute, a little bit taller than me with a goatee and scarce sideburns. He loved cracking jokes, which i found humorless. It started with a text from an unknown number then i got curious. Then came the calls and finally friendship.

What? If anyone wanted more than just friends, he must crazy!

I was a smoker, not a drinker or a party goer and above all a sucker in social life. That was me. A big plump ball of imperfect.

He accepted me for who i was and sympathised with my bad childhood. Comfort was available when he was around. What made him perfect was that he was the complete opposite of me both physically and in behaviour. He didn’t do drugs or alcohol. Above all he wanted to change me, to help me from the dark abyss i had sank into all those years.

Three months of bliss and smoking pot went by, happiness and assurance of having someone by my side. Until something clicked inside me.

All the sweet things he did before became irritable. Bouts of anger sparked when he came late to our meetings frequently. My smoking bothered him. His female friends created an unholy fire of jealousy in my heart, burning every ounce of tenderness and trust towards him. I began watching him closely through his friends and took it further by ‘testing’ his loyalty through a series of cleverly formulated questions and favours to see if i could confirm my doubts. He made me mad.

Heated arguments mixed with bhang was a blast. Being high when arguing was a game changer. It was like using an automatic gun on a crowd or more like a bazooka on a car. Funny thing, at the end of the word exchange session he came out more broken than i was yet i was the one hurting.

But he came back the next day, apologizing over what happened. He came back everyday, over and over and over again even when i smashed his smartphone , broke his watch and kicked him out in the night. He came back.

A year was gone. Our relationship was broken. Around each other, it was like walking on egg shells. One word could start a war. One word was enough to blow up the peace into the sun’s orbit.

He changed and became more like me; irritable, hot tempered and defensive. We were both alike. Opposites attract but in our case, the closer we got,the further our hearts moved away.

Finally, we were at our last drop of love. We tried to patch things up but the wounds in both of us were too sore to heal. I tried to be more affectionate , i stopped smoking and became more calm ,more peaceful. Unfortunately, we had to part ways unhappy and wounded more than the first time.

Dear reader, it was at the end of this relationship that my eyes opened. The hurt, pain, rejection and aggression i harbored all those years affected my relationship. It darkened the light within and twisted the love in me into a corrupt version that sprang forth cruelty.

It’s been eight months since the break up. Eight months of reflection and counselling sessions i booked myself into after realising i had a problem that couldn’t be fixed alone.

Right now, today. Its time to start the healing journey to make sure past misery and bitterness won’t poison your future relationship again.

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