I was a freshman in high school when I met this guy, Russ. It was some time in September, right at the beginning of the year, that we started dating. At first I thought it was great. I spent all of my time with him. He didn’t like it if I did anything with anyone besides him, so I didn’t. I thought this meant that he really loved me. I didn’t think of it as a big sacrifice. He would go out with his friends and I would stay at home, not wanting to make him mad. I cut myself off from everyone, including my family.

My friends at school tried to tell me that this was twisted. But I refused to listen. Someone finally loved me, I told them, I was fine, I was happy. I thought they were just jealous.

Eventually my day went like this: I’d get up in the morning, go to his house; he would walk me to school. I’d go to classes all day, but not socialize with my friends – if they couldn’t support me in my relationship they weren’t my friends anyway, I was thinking. Russ would be waiting for me after school, and we’d walk back to his house. I had a job, so I’d go to it, and then go back to his house after work and until my curfew. When I arrived home, I was to call him.

I started really feeling bad about myself. Russ cut me down every chance he got. He told me I was nothing, and I believed him. When he said, “Jump,” I said, “how high”.

We’d been in the relationship for about a year when I started getting sick all the time because I wasn’t eating much. He’d call me names, tell me what to do, that sort of thing. I didn’t feel like eating. If I did eat, I’d just throw it up after he yelled at me. He was cheating, and I would forgive him because I was convinced it was my fault.

My mom tried to talk to me about it. She knew something wasn’t right. I couldn’t cover it up with baggy clothes and lots of makeup. But I told her I didn’t need help.

Finally, at the end of Junior year, Russ and I broke up. It was such an incredible relief and I wondered why I had waited so long. I didn’t want to hate him because that would’ve meant I wasted three-quarters of my high school career dating him. So I tried to be friends, but that just messed it up. Because then he started stalking me. He’d catch up to me outside school and twist my wrist behind my back. A counselor had to tell him to let go.

When I finally stopped talking to him, once and for all, and never had anything to do with him, and told my parents and the counselors at school, only then did he finally stop coming after me. I tell my friends now, unless your boyfriend can let you be who you are, you shouldn’t be dating them.