Good morning,

            I got up this morning thinking that today would be different. It’s a brand new day, with new goals on the horizon—obtainable goals, or so I believe. I feel somewhat refreshed, having gotten close to eight hours of sleep for the first time in… well, I don’t remember when I had that much sleep.

I started my day about the same way I’ve done for years. Then, well, I saw you again. The negative feelings and emotions that I had hoped were gone suddenly came rushing back. My stomach twisted in a knot like a pretzel. A sudden wave of dread and fear washed over me like the ocean waves crashing against sandcastles when I laid my eyes back upon you.

            I can’t fully describe what I feel, but I know it’s not good, and I’ve been feeling it for some time now. I have to say something; I can’t keep quiet any longer. It wouldn’t be fair to keep moving through life like this without letting you or someone else know about how I feel inside. And I think today is the day I finally say enough is enough. Our relationship has run its course; I am done, and I want out. I want a change; I need a change.

            This isn’t the life that I want. I realize now that I’m constantly being controlled by you all day, every day. It’s like you feel that I’m incapable of making my own decisions. You tell me how to feel, when to feel, what to feel, where to go, when to go, and what to do. Your nagging little voice in my head is telling me everything to do and what script to follow.

I have no say over any part of my life. I feel like a passenger in my own car. Any time I have a thought of doing something to make myself better, to improve myself, you’re there. Your voice, in the back of my head, telling me no. Screaming NO! at me. Like you don’t want me to do better; it’s as if you’re afraid that if I improve, I’ll no longer allow myself to be at your mercy. You’ll lose your control. So I don’t. I let go of my dream and fall back into the same rut we’ve been in for years. I don’t move forward; I stay stuck.

What’s worse, though, is how you’ve made me feel about myself: the incisive belittling, the scrutinization of every little detail about how I look. You’re overanalyzing me. The jabs, subtle as they may be, I still hear them: “Your teeth aren’t as white as they should be, and they’re crooked. You’ve put on weight. You have the worst sense of style. What’s wrong with your hairline? Are you prematurely balding? Wear a hat to cover that up. Why aren’t you taller, fitter, manlier?” I hear these from you every day, from the moment I wake up to the second I go to bed.

Any time, and I mean every time, that I feel I’ve done something right or good, as small as it may be, here you come again, creeping around the corner to dash the little ray of sunlight. If I’ve written a good story, I see you over my shoulder with your red pen, ready to turn it into a bloody mess of red marks. The red ink stands out to me against the white and black of the page like bloody stripes, the punitive marks of your disapproval. I feel that’s my blood that you use to destroy my hard work as you laugh away, slashing and dashing all the while, telling me, “Oh, that was okay, but couldn’t you have done better? I mean, you’ve been writing that for years. Can’t you do any better?”

So, I put it away for another few months. I put everything away; I don’t move forward with anything. I can’t; it’s like I’m paralyzed with indecision because of you. You’ve turned me into a shell of who I once was before I met you. This can’t go on much longer. In fact, I believe it’s our relationship that’s killing me faster. I can’t sleep, I don’t eat, I doubt everything that I do and say. I’ve even come to question how I do the things one does automatically. Am I breathing too heavily? Do I blink too much? Am I even walking the right way?

I’ve come to the realization that our relationship is toxic, and I can no longer idly stand by and allow it to continue. So, today is the day I say enough is enough. I’m taking back control of my life.

So here we go.

I firmly plant both feet on the floor and gaze into your eyes, bracing my hands on the sink edges for support as I feel my knees quake. My heart races, my palms are sweaty, but I steel my jaw, fixing the most intense stare that I can. You mock me. I can’t believe that my reflection mocks me, but he does so every morning. You stand reflecting back at me, knowing that I don’t have it in me to be rid of you, or so you think, after years of beating me down. But I do. I have self-confidence now, and I will do this for myself to save my life. With a loud, commanding, and calm voice, I say to you.

“We’re done. This toxic relationship that we’ve had is over. Self-doubt, I want you out of my life for good. You will no longer control me. I am better than this. I will not allow you to continue eroding my self-confidence and esteem. I can do what I set my mind to. I can be what I want. And I am who I am. I may not be perfect, but who is? So get out of my head, and don’t come back.”

There, I did it. A blast of relief envelopes me as your nagging little voice fades away as I continue to stare at myself. All the things that you had beat me up with over these last few years staring back at me fade away. I no longer feel the dread that I had allowed to take over me for so many years.

You know what? Today is a new day. A brand-new day at that, with new horizons and new obtainable goals out there for me to achieve. For the first time in a long time, I feel that… I feel that all of them are out there for the taking. And you know what? With a smile on my face, I might just take a few before the day is done.