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Before this week you may have never heard of Essena O’Neill; a bikini toting, beach leaping glossy teen who, with over 800,000 followers, was bit of a star on Instagram – one of the world’s most popular social media sites.By re-captioning some of her most liked posts to reveal the creative licence that went into creating the ‘perfect’ photographs of her ‘perfect’ life , the 19 year old Australian model said she wanted to expose the artificial world of social media.It soon progressed to name-calling, insults, unfounded accusations, degradation, humiliation, and isolation.The first step in domestic violence is to charm the victim; the second is to isolate the victim. I began believing I deserved the abuse, and thought everybody else believed I was who he said I was.One winter day during my junior year, I found out that he had cheated on me again. He became enraged as I walked away to my class but he didn't follow me. In that moment, I had two choices: I could either sit there and continue to be belittled in front of everyone because he wasn't going to leave, and nobody else was going to say or do anything, or I could walk out and be shamed anyway because I had given into his threats. As we walked down the hall, he spit in my face, pulled my necklace off my neck, threw it in the trashcan and he threw me up against the lockers. Mine is a story of emotional, psychological, and physical abuse.
But I chose to keep my secret hidden, I chose to protect the people I loved, I chose to find my own way. I found my voice and rebuilt my foundation on self-acceptance and self-love.
I never imagined such shame and at 15 years old, understood it even less. It was those incidents that left long-lasting emotional scars. My story begins at the age of 14 and continues off and on until I was 22.
The signs weren't obvious, especially to a 14 year-old, but it began with him telling me he didn't like the shirts I wore, or that my skirt was too short; at the time, it was easy to mistake jealousy and control for adoration.
I tried to leave a few times, he would threaten to commit suicide, or worse. Nobody knew about the head butts each time he didn't agree with something I did or didn't do.
The relationship took an emotional toll to the point where I was getting severe panic attacks. Nobody knew the reason my windshield had shattered was because he had punched it in a fit of rage over what I had worn to school that day. I knew if I stayed, all of those dreams I had when I was a little girl would never be realized. I broke up with him and moved out of the state a week later.