Until my lungs burned.

Deep, deep breaths for this one.

I started this week with an 11-hour road trip to a cemetery with my best friend. She needed to visit someone important to her and I had the pleasure of riding shotgun as emotional support. Maxine sure loves playing passenger princess too.

My warm regard for my best friend is beyond words. Even just looking at her makes me want to burst into tears. She’s been by my side for eight years and supporting me in ways that matter most, so of course I was happy to make this long drive with her.

Nothing is off the table between us. We talk about everything: family, careers, anxieties, hopes, dreams, and zodiac signs of famous serial killers. About an hour and a half into the drive, the topic of exes came up.

“So…what all happened there?” She inquired about the 15-month relationship I ended near the start of 2022.

“I wasn’t happy. She used my anxieties and insecurities about other dudes she would flirt with to leverage what she wanted from me.” My best friend knows all about my fears of infidelity in relationships, so I skipped the preambles with her.

“Yeah, I remember you telling me she was a little crazy,” my best friend replied.

“Yeah, she tracked my location everywhere I went, and she had me on camera whenever I was home,” I elaborated further.

“…Wait, WHAT?! Are you like…okay?” My best friend took her eyes off the road to turn to me in shock and concern.

“It was…highly traumatic,” I said with a nervous smile and laugh.

“Bruh. You didn’t tell me that part. Wait, how?! How did she even manage to do that?!” Her eyes were wide with disbelief like a big sister learning her sibling was being bullied at school.

“You know those Smart Clocks? Like, the Amazon Echo? She bought me one and had me set it up in my room. She’d watch me play video games and stuff to make sure I wasn’t talking to other girls. She’d watch me sleep too. She’d stay up to hear if I mumbled any names of other women in my sleep.” I explained absolute insanity in casual tones.

“I remember you telling me she was crazy and I thought ‘Well, I trust Not-Maxine is aware enough not to exaggerate,’ but holy shit.” She took it all in at the same speed that others did, quickly and distraught.

“I was really reluctant to admit she was crazy because of the whole sexist history of hysteria and everything…But yeah, she took advantage of how naive and fresh I was to dating and made me think everything she did was normal. If I tried to speak up against it, we’d just start fighting and I’d have to apologize for something she did…She hit me a couple of times too.” My emotions swirled.

“That’s not fucking okay.” She took the next exit to look for a charging station. Her car battery was at 20%.

“She was also really disrespectful in the bedroom. There was lots of sexual coercion. There’s one instance where I’m still not sure if it counts as assault, but I was pretty drunk and she was sober; I just remember not having much of a choice in what she was doing to me. I can’t really figure out what happened there.” It all came pouring out of me at once.

“Dude. I didn’t know any of this,” she said.

“I think I just got used to the practice of not talking to any of my girl-friends. She isolated me from everyone, especially women.” I looked out to the countryside, taking in the scenery as I realized something truly awful.

I became so angry in that moment. I didn’t know how to think, but the words that came to mind were:

How dare she? How dare she put me through so much turmoil that I forget to tell my best friend about what I had gone through long after it was over? This would’ve never happened unless I was truly possessed. I tell my best friend everything. She knows everything about me. No world, no instance of life amidst any possible iteration of existence could ever contain a reality where I don’t tell my best friend something so important. I literally have screenshots from 2020 of her asking me if we can name my feminine side. She knew Maxine before she had a name, before she had space to sing and flourish. She saw all my potential from when we first met and has never stopped supporting me in everything I need to be happy, so the notion that someone successfully stopped me from connecting with her enraged me.

I felt so utterly ashamed at that moment, but I also felt relieved. I had taken another step in reclaiming my soul from a monster that had crawled into my skin and made a nest for 15 months, a monster that made me forget how to be myself and tricked me into being just like her: jealous, afraid, and full of rage.

We finished the road trip and parted ways for the evening. I had a hearty dinner by myself, then I made another particular drive.

There’s a road by my home that I drive east until there’s “no more east” on nights when I’m overwhelmed with stirred feelings of sorrow and anguish. I drive towards this sole stoplight that shines red amidst the black sea of night, then I park on the side of the road. Sometimes I cry a little. Sometimes I cry a lot.

This time, I screamed. I screamed at the night, the moon, and the stars. I screamed until I felt winded. Until my shoulders drooped. Until my lungs burned. Until I could feel and accept all the love I was isolated from during those 15 months of horror. Until this monster was exorcised from my skin and bones.

Until I could remember who I am, who Maxine is.

I often ask myself what could I have done to make those 15 months better. Everyone I talk to always tells me I did all I could.

Maybe the best thing to do was just learn.