"I told you that I would be the pretty one."

My cousin and I were inseparable our whole lives. She was always beautifully curvaceous, and I was always stick thin. Her dad use to fat shame her, telling her that she had to look like me to ever be loved. 

Fast forward to this year when I was pregnant (but hadn't told anyone yet) and she was starving herself for her new beau. She called me and said, "I told you that one day you would be the fat one and I would be the pretty, skinny one." 

She even encouraged her boyfriend to make fun of my weight.

"How could she do that to you?"

My now-husband and I became pregnant with our son when I was 20 and he was 22. We were young and it wasn't ideal, but we loved each other, had been together for a year, and were already prepared to raise a family; it just happened a little earlier than we'd thought. 

My husband called his mother to tell her the news, and I sat very close to him, trying to hear her reaction. I never expected what came next: 

"How could she do that to you?" she asked. "Doesn't she know you can't afford it?" I stood up, but I could still hear her. "You do know that when she leaves you, you're going to have to pay her, right?" 

I don't even know what my husband said because I remember being so shocked and hurt that I walked out of the room and sat outside. 

My son is 8 now, and my husband and I have been together for a little over 10 years, married for 5, and bought our first home 2 years ago. We are still very much in love, and we are incredible parents.

In that whole time, my mother in law has said countless stupid and mean things to me. But this comment has always stuck with me and always will. 
 

"No one will find that attractive."

My style has always been a bit alternative. Even after having my daughter at 18, I kept my look. Pink and black hair, a tattoo (planned to get more), piercings (also planning for more), the works. I had a dream of becoming an alternative model, which I thought was the epitome of beautiful. When I was 19, I had a set plan. I was going to polish myself up a bit and send in some shots. 

My husband at the time told me I was crazy, and that, "No one's going to want to look at your half naked, post baby body. No one will find that attractive. I find it attractive because I love you." 

That hurt me so bad, I cried myself to sleep that night. 

I eventually divorced that ass, and now, eight years later, I've never been happier.
 

"You're not the same."

My daughter was born premature. Extremely premature. She weighed 1lb, 3oz, and was not supposed to survive. On top of that, I almost didn't survive either. I was hospitalized for months, I had an emergency C section, and I faced losing my daughter every day after that for months until she was stable enough.

And I went through it all without a comforting hand beside me. 

Throughout it all, I was being abused by my (now ex) husband. 

One day, while waiting for our daughter to be released from surgery, I confronted him. Why was he so cruel to me? Why did I deserve the pain? 

He looked me in the eyes and told me this one thing: "You're not the girl I fell in love with. You're not the same. You were so sweet and happy. And now you're bitter and hateful. The world darkened you, and you're not the same." 

That was why I deserved his abuse, which was the very thing that made me bitter. 

That was why I deserved being left alone to go through this ordeal, which was the very thing that darkened me.

It's been five years, and I now have depression and anxiety. I have a hard time with my relationships. I never know if I can trust the man I'm with, for numerous reasons. 

I'm the girl who apologizes for existing. 

He was right. I'm not the same.

"...for what?"

Day 2 of motherhood. More visitors come and go. More smiles, hugs and kisses. More well wishes, but still no father. I call, text and call again. Then finally, he answers. 

Me: "Hey." 
Him: "Sup." 
Me: "He's here!" 
Him: "Oh." 
Me: "Are you coming to visit? I'm only here until tomorrow morning."
Him: *silence* "Visit...for what?"
Me: "What do you mean?"
Him: "Let me call you back." *click*

I can not articulate the hurt and devastation I felt pulling the phone away from my ear. What was suppose to be one of the most exhilarating experiences in my life (having a child) turned out to be the most devastating. 

To this day, I am afraid to have another child because of the two nights I spent alone in my hospital bed. The two nights I cried. The conversation that pierced the depths of my soul. I never again want to feel that pain.
 

"You are by far the most loving person I know. You're also the most gullible."

When I was 18, I was in a very physically and emotionally abusive relationship. He moved into my apartment, took over my life, got me pregnant, then left.

I moved back home with my parents and went back to school. I got an awesome job, and my son and I moved out on our own. We were doing fairly well. 

Then when I was 22, I got pregnant again. My boyfriend said, "Get an abortion and I'll stay. Keep it and I'm gone." 

I was crushed. I didn't get an abortion with my first child back when my life was a wreck, so why would I do it now? So he moved literally across the country. And I was, yet again, left pregnant and alone.

After I had my second son, the boys and I met with my best friend for lunch. I was having a rather emotional day and I started to cry. I said to him, "When I love, I love with every ounce of my being, so why do I only find these guys who play me like a puppet?"

He reached across the table, patted my eyes, grabbed my hand, smiled at my four-year-old, looked at my newborn, and said in a soft, sweet voice, "Sweetheart, for as long as I've known you, you are by far the most loving person I know. You're also the most gullible. Anyone can tell you they love you, and you will believe it every single time."

Since that day, I haven't been able to believe anyone who says they love me. Not even him. 

Now he says I need to loosen up and try dating again. No thanks! I've learned my lesson, and the boys and I couldn't be happier on our own.