Renée's Story - Why this Mental Health Stuff Matters to Me
I’ve been asked a couple times why mental health awareness matters to me and my motivations behind the founding of Laaser’s Ladybug Society. I imagine most people assume my interest stems from Jon and his family’s focus on the importance of mental wellness and openness about depression and addiction. I actually have my own reason, but have been a lot less open to talking about it in the past. However, as we have begun to meet wonderful people that have shared their stories, I have realized that it is their vulnerability that provides them their greatest strength. And it has compelled me to share my story.
When we originally started the Society, we intended to fund individuals to seek professional counseling. Our biggest issue with that concept was being able to identify those individuals and how people would know to reach out to us. We also didn’t want to be put in the position of choosing one candidate over another and potentially making someone feel belittled or unimportant. Funding individual treatment is something we’d like to do in the future; it’s just not our starting point. The concept means a lot to me because there was a time when I needed that support and wasn’t able to receive it.
Right out of college when I was in my early-20’s, I found myself in an abusive relationship that lasted over two years. The actual abuse was something that built gradually. First, it was verbal and telling me that I “was a joke” and “a f***ing loser”. Then it was grabbing my arm violently and trying to pull me in whatever direction he thought I should go. Finally, it turned more physically violent when I was choked, thrown against a wall and furniture, and chased through his apartment. Even after a terrifying night realizing he was a lot bigger and stronger than me, I still stayed in the relationship. Most of these incidents (and the most physically violent occasions) happened when he was drunk. Specifically off liquor. So, I was able to tell myself it wasn’t him. It was the whiskey doing it. To compound matters, the following mornings when I had either been sleeping in a different room or left the apartment entirely, he would claim to have no memory of the incidents. He was too drunk to remember any of it so I’d be retelling every detail and feeling like an overdramatic idiot. He’d say “I’m not that guy” and couldn’t believe he had acted that way. One particularly apologetic morning involved him dumping out a giant bottle of Jameson he kept above his fridge that he bought during a family vacation in Ireland. That was his way of proving that he was sorry and going to change. I didn’t tell my family or friends what was going on. I didn’t think they’d understand and I was so afraid they’d make me break up with him.
After each incident he’d do well for a while and refused to drink any liquor, but then we’d be out with his friends and one of them would start buying rounds of shots. I would immediately tense up. I would try whispering to him and ask him to not take any. I liked all of his friends and never wanted to make a scene so I tried to quietly deter him. It didn’t work. I’ll never forget the night he asked me if I really wanted to be the girlfriend who stopped her boyfriend from drinking with his friends. “They’ll all look at you different.” So I shut up. Instead of trying to stand up to him or (God forbid) break up, I eventually started storming off and would leave him with his friends.
I’m not too sure of the timeline, but at some point he started cheating on me with a coworker. I am fairly certain she wasn’t the first one. I picked a real winner, huh? I denied every instinct and clue that he was unfaithful (there were A LOT… as any of my girlfriends can attest to), but when he finally admitted it after we broke up, I was crushed. I was left with a toxic mixture of hurt, shame, shock, anger and humiliation.
Just in case I was dumb enough to forgive him for everything, I admitted to my mom that he was abusive. I knew once I spoke those words out loud and told someone, there would be no going back. My mom told my dad and siblings and there was no way any of them would allow him in my life. Next, I started telling my friends. I still feel sick to my stomach when I think of the day I came clean to my friend Amber. She was the one I ran to on the most violent night and told her we got into a big fight, but omitted the part where he actually hit me. It still upsets me knowing that I lied to one of my closest friends.
So there I was, newly single with my self-esteem completely shattered and my ability to trust others in doubt. I went through the next few months in fog. I remember spending times with friends and laughing with them, but not feeling like I was actually there. I felt like a fraud and only pretending to be Renée. I felt like I was fake laughing even though I knew something was really funny. I was pretending to be me and pretending to be okay. I so badly wanted to be okay.
It was after roughly six months of being a zombie and sleepwalking my way through life that my mom encouraged me to get into counseling. I found a great counselor who helped me make sense of my wide-ranging emotions and put them in perspective. During one session I asked him why I couldn’t genuinely laugh the way I once did and my fear that I’d never have another relationship because I was “too ugly to function.” He explained to me that my depression was distorting my view of life. It was like I was looking out a window to a beautiful day, but I wasn’t able to see it because someone threw mud and grim that was coating the glass and I couldn’t see past it.
I felt like the sessions were helping and that I was making progress, but then I quickly noticed my dwindling bank account and my insurance’s refusal to cover even half. So after only five appointments, I was done. I told myself I was fine and ready to move on with my life. I didn’t want to admit how hurt and damaged I was from that relationship because I felt like it gave him power. So I started my new approach to life: going out most nights, drinking, laughing, and never getting close to anyone. Be flighty and emotionally unavailable was my thought process. Shallow relationships with only people who came into my life after that breakup. Thankfully, I maintained my friendships of Renée from “before”, but now I was re-starting life as the “After Renée.” I emotionally hurt people, ghosted, dissociated. I didn’t like myself so there was no way for me to like someone else. I lived this way for several years.
It wasn’t until my relationship with Jon started that I realized I was ready for a change and to let someone into my life. I didn’t need to keep going out and get drunk to drown emotions. I could allow myself to feel again. I finally met someone with the patience and understanding to connect with me that I could trust. Enough time had passed.
Today, I hold zero bitterness towards my ex. You read that correctly. I have no bitterness towards him because I am incredibly grateful for how things turned out. I survived that hurt and trauma and learned so much from it. I grew as a person and had awesome new experiences, like interning in MiLB and moving to Virginia. I probably never would have tried any of that if I stayed in that relationship much longer and I’m fairly confident I never would have met Jon. Now that I have the distance and clarity, I can look at the crazy path my life took and be grateful for where I am now.
I'm struggling with how to wrap this up, but I suppose that doesn’t much matter. I was hesitant to write this, but as I post it for you to read I do feel the arrival of the strength that I witnessed in others that motivated me to share. In that there is joy. I do obviously wish that I wasn't a victim of domestic abuse and addressed the ramifications in a healthier manner. However, I am thankful for where I am today and for the people who are in my life. If anything, I hope everyone realizes that it's never too late to take back control of your life and find happiness. And if the Ladybugs can ever be of assistance towards that aim, my life will be filled with the purpose I always dreamed. And in that, I won.