Taking control of my life was short-lived. Deep down, I felt too broken to deserve love, like my past was a weight I couldn’t burden anyone else with. In healthy relationships, I’d always feel like I was intruding, bringing baggage that wasn’t fair to anyone else. It felt unfamiliar, almost as if something was off because stability and kindness were so far from what I’d known. I ended each relationship before it even had a chance, deciding for them what kind of person they deserved, never giving them the choice to decide for themselves. Every breakup wasn’t just the end of a relationship; it was another moment of self-sabotage, confirming a belief I held for years: that happiness wasn’t something I was meant to have.

In my early twenties, I thought I’d met someone different. He was charming and kind, a rare comfort after years of emotional darkness. But my gut instinct, which I’d learned to silence, was sending me warning signals. After years of childhood trauma, my ability to trust my own instincts was damaged. He showered me with affection, and soon, I found out I was pregnant with his child. At 20, I was having a baby with a man who was eleven years older, a fact I didn’t learn until I saw his ID at our wedding two years later.

As time passed, unsettling details began to surface. I started receiving calls and messages from a woman claiming to be his wife. He brushed it off, calling her a “crazy ex-girlfriend” who couldn’t let go. I wanted to believe him, so I trusted his story, pushing aside my doubts. But while I was in labor, this so-called “ex” broke into our home and took everything I had prepared for our baby. I filed a restraining order against her, still holding onto his explanations, but the cracks were forming, and doubt was seeping in.

Then came the proposal: to move 500 miles away, a new home, a new life, a new start, but at the cost of leaving my support system behind. I agreed, clinging to the hope of stability. But right after our wedding, I discovered the whole truth: his “ex-girlfriend” was indeed his wife, and their divorce had only just been finalized days before we married. Isolated in a new town with a newborn baby, I was left alone to navigate this betrayal with no one to lean on. He continued to gaslight me, insisting his “wife” was the problem. As he put on a show of charm and promises, I realized the depth of his deception, distracting me with dreams of a future while I was only being pulled deeper into his web of lies.