Chapter 6: My "Savior" Ex - Severus Snape

Originally, I wanted him to be he-who-should-not-be-named, but in doing backstory research, I think Severus Snape is a much better parallel for this story. Bittersweet intentions, but outcome of that love was kind cruel…but helpful? At the very least, the only reason why I am writing this story is because of freshly minted trauma I endured as a result of him.

But similar to Snape’s tragic love for Lily- who was not his and the grave betrayal as a result, my own savior can be said to have had the best intentions, only to cause the worst outcome for everyone involved.

Trouble packs light and travels far.

Out of sight, out of mind. The same could be said for my desire to leave behind by abusive history and start anew in a different place. But psychological abuse is a mental burden. I treated my history of abuse like it was a physical a piece of luggage, that I could just leave behind. I didn't understand that trauma is a burden of the mind, and there was no physical solution for my internal woes.

I had lived the first 18 years of my life in pretty much social isolation. There was no chance of me being a normal person just 4 years later. For those who have endured the outcomes of the two years of the pandemic, imagine 18 + 2 years. The troubles packed into my youth that followed me into young adulthood were immense.

In hindsight, it’s no surprise that it they consumed me and lingered, despite by best intentions to begin anew.

After I graduated from college, I moved to Silicon Valley.

Somehow I was able to graduate on time and as was typical in those times, I took whatever job I could get. Off to Americorps I went, working in a elementary school teaching children how to play fairly and make sure that everyone was included at recess. It was a fun job, but at this point I was in my early 20s, and yet to experience a relationship. One of my high school friends had success with online dating and so I decided to give it a shot. Severus was one of the first people that I met online.

My initial thoughts were that Severus was darkly witty, funny, and a little bit unpolished. He would crack insensitive jokes about race, disability, etc. and I was initially not sure that his lack of education would be a good match for me. I had already finished my bachelor's degree, and he was a college dropout. However, he had a good work ethic, was very supportive of my goals, and helped me out a lot as I tried to find my roots in a new town. However, underneath the glistening happy surface of our relationship, a pattern was brewing.

The cycle of leaving or staying and the never-changing empty promises

I should have been wary in the ways he discounted my intelligence and my expertise. Anything to do with my experience as a black woman in society was me being "too sensitive" and "overanalyzing" everything. At times he could be extremely caring, and then he just shut down. Any form of critique or feedback immediately cause him to be unreceptive and turn away. Finally about 3 years in I reached the first of many breaking points. I'd tried everything to get him to be vulnerable with me, and yet each time I was met with a brick wall and stony silence.

I asked him to leave. And he immediately was taken aback. He didn't want to lose me. He claimed he was closed off because he had endured trauma and abuse as a child, and this was a symptom of that. Of course, I empathetic. He promised that he would get help and work on being a better communicator and partner, but therapy was not on the table. It terrified him.

And every time, I fell for his "poor me" excuses, not realizing that he was using vulnerability to manipulate me to stay. The reasoning changed. I didn't give him feedback in a good way, so I tried to learn some softer approaches. When that didn't work, he claimed that he did better with a schedule of needs. And when I did that he didn't follow through and claimed that I was nagging if I asked him to complete his responsibilities. Each time, I tried to adjust to a new challenge, a new criteria would appear, along with guilt of me not being understanding of his psychological needs.

And so, three years turned to five, and by that time, I saw 30 quickly approaching and wanted stability. A home, a family possibly, but really just stability. And like my mother before, me, I had hope that maybe things would get better. Maybe with the commitment of marriage, Severus might grow-up and gain responsibility. But as soon as he had me locked down, he had no fear of ever losing me. And things got worse.

I should have known by then that he was not committed to "working" on himself. He was committed to prevent me from leaving. This cycle continued for years. And in those years I lost my mom, my dad, my childhood home, and I gained a strong panic disorder from any sort of travel (cars, planes, trains). I was mentally stuck, extremely anxious, and despite my enduring exterior, I was emotionally wounded and fragile. I couldn't take care of myself, cause I was too busy catering to his unending and inconsistent whims.