“I hate hearing you guys fight, or listening to you cry all the time. No one deserves to be treated like this. He should never hit you, or cheat on you,” Sara, my best friend, told me. This feeling of disgust towards my relationship with Chad, my boyfriend of almost two years, was rampant between my friends. None of them could understand why I was with him or how I could like him. To me, though, the answer was clear. No one else knew Chad the way I did. I was the only one aware of the abused, brokenhearted, confused Chad with an eating disorder.

In my friend’s eyes, I was the girl with a strong head on my head on my shoulders who always knew what to say. My friends counted on me to be the one to give them advice and help them through their rough times. However, this time was different. I was the one who was getting advice, but didn’t want to take it. He’s not right for you, you deserve so much better, you need to break up with him this isn’t healthy, was all I heard. I knew they were right. How could they not be? After all, they were my best friends and knew me the best. How could I let someone who told me they loved me hit me? Why would I let him yell and scream at me, and call me names? None of these thoughts made sense to me, yet I still couldn’t bring myself to leave him. I felt it was my responsibility to take care of Chad, even if I got hurt in the process. I didn’t want to see him hurting so badly. His relationship was appalling with his family and I didn’t want to be one more of the people to walk out on him. Chad couldn’t convey his feelings in a safe way. He constantly kept them bottled up and when he told he was feeling, it looked like Mount Vesuvius erupting. The words never came out calm, yelling was his way of getting it all out.

After about three months of debating whether to break it off or not, I finally did. That one last time I got hit, I couldn’t take it anymore. That was the last fight I wanted to be a part of. I need out. I knew it would be hard losing my best friend, but I would have to manage. For almost a month, not one word was spoken between us. One night, however, he called. The tone in his voice was much different than I had remembered. I had never heard Chad cry before that night. He called me and told me he hadn’t eaten in four days, and that if he did try to eat, he would purge. I had noticed early along in our relationship that he hardly ate but I didn’t know it had reached this point. He confessed to me that he didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. Was I responsible for this? I felt like I had made him get worse. Chad made me promised not to tell anyone, but I knew that someone else needed to know. Later that night, I made the decision to call his mom. I knew this would make Chad hate me more, but it had to be done. I explained to her what had been going on and how worried I was about him. She thanked me for calling and told me she would do whatever she could to get him help. This was one of the best decisions I made.
My decisions have allowed Chad and I to remain friends. I learned more about myself than I ever thought I would. I’ve learned making one change in a person’s life can make a world of difference. It was all about trusting myself to make the right decision and to step in and help when I was needed. Because I did those things, I made a difference in Chad’s life. Learning and change is what college is all about.