NARCISSISTS, SCARS, AND THE MAN I REFUSE TO BE.

I’ve only been in two major relationships as an adult.
But they were enough to shape everything about the way I see love, trust, and myself.

The first was with someone I married.
We had just moved into our first apartment when I got a message from someone — a nude photo of him. Right there in my phone. I had just left home. I didn’t have another place to go. And in my head, I didn’t have a choice. I stayed. I forgave. Or maybe I just froze.

Before we got married, it happened again.
And still… I stayed.

As our TikTok account started to blow up and the money started flowing in, I began to notice a shift. Not in public — in private. We weren’t passionate. We weren’t close. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t even cuddle. I felt like an annoyance in my own home. And the more fame we got, the more distant he became. We were partners in content… not love. It felt cold. Transactional. Empty.

And here’s the truth I hate admitting:
The fame and the money turned me into someone I didn’t recognize.
I started to act narcissistic. I didn’t like who I was becoming.

Then came my second relationship.
And he was exactly what I had turned into — but worse.
He was my mirror, my karma, my punishment.

He got me arrested.
He made me sleep outside.
He pulled me off balconies.
He beat me.
He spit in my face.
He made me crawl.
He broke me down, over and over again — emotionally, spiritually, physically.

There was a moment I thought about ending it all.
And even then, his knee was still on my head.

Looking back now, I realize how much your environment matters.
Who you love.
Who you let close.
What kind of energy you allow to seep into your spirit.

That first relationship taught me that I can become someone I don’t want to be if I’m in a space that feeds that darkness. It showed me how much healing I needed.

The second one showed me what it’s like to lose all sense of self. To feel like nothing. To be so unseen and unloved that you forget what your own light looks like.

But here’s what I carry now:
I need to protect my peace.
I need to honor the parts of me that are soft, emotional, and worthy of care.

The man in my life now reminds me that I am human, even in my lowest moments. That I don’t have to be perfect. That I’m allowed to cry, to feel, to be held.

He doesn’t stand in my light.
He doesn’t take it.
He just makes sure no one holds an umbrella over my head again.