I had yet to realize the negative impact my mother had on me. Then I went to college. As with any change, I had longed for it. I made new friends almost immediately. Having recently given up on love, I made an effort not to fall for any of my guy friends…again. Why is it so easy for me to do this to myself? All I would get is disappointment. Then he asked me out! The tall dark-haired one I couldn’t stop thinking about. The one I always lied down with as closely as I could without being found out, when we star-gazed in front of the library. He was cute, mysterious, mature, and incredibly in touch with himself. I wanted to know him better; I wanted to know who he was. We spent countless nights watching Doctor Who and Person of Interest late at night in his dorm room. I had to ask him: Would you call yourself a cat-person? (This will be the deal-breaker, the ultimate test of compatibility) Yes! What a relief that was! I thought I might love him… 

When Thanksgiving break rolled around, it tortured me. I longed to hug him, I longed to see his beautiful smiling face, the way he looked at me. He was the only person I felt I could be real with, be myself with. My family didn’t know. My mother would kill me if she found out I’d been dating a guy without her permission, especially during my first semester. She could never know. “Oh, he definitely likes you, you know. It’s so obvious.” she pointed out with a sly smile on her face. “Yes, he told me he likes me; we’re figuring things out.” She had seen right through it. How did mothers see these things? She didn’t seem fazed but I knew better. Her world was shattering, and mine had just begun. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I felt so incredibly content and safe in his arms. This was my first experience feeling this way. I wondered, “When will it wear off? Will it wear off? Am I jumping into something that’s going to end up causing me unbearable pain?” I had lived with pain my whole life. 

Having parents who don’t seem to love you will do awful things to a person. My friends were in awe of how strong and loving I am despite my upbringing. The constant screaming, the name-calling, being told I’m her worst mistake over, and over, and over, until I got the chance to escape to my room and cry. I would silently cry in my room, because I felt I had no one. “You have me,” my cat seemed to say with his paws on my lap and his whiskers all over my face, “I won’t leave you.” I would cry as my body was filled with waves of sadness and hurt combined with the loving, reassuring purrs of my favorite cat. He always knew when I needed cuddles. My mom tore me down over and over again, and over and over again, Charlie never ceased to find me in my worst emotional states. My mother had no idea that every time she tore a part of me down, I built myself back up, stronger every time, although I didn’t realize it until much later. She thought she had complete control over me. I thought she had complete control over me, but one day I grew strong enough to confront her. And she lost me…maybe forever.