The day came that I finally left him. It was a joyous day! It was in January 2010, 11 years ago.
I woke up one morning and it finally hit me. I am talking care of myself and doing everything on my own. I was paying the rent and all bills, taking care of his lazy ass. He refused to work, refused to pay his bills. His mother paid his shitty $200 child support. He was doing nothing except making me feel like I was walking around on eggshells. It was a constant fear that I did not want to live with. I was over it. Living with the PTSD was a nightmare in and of itself let alone dealing with the unknown abuse that may happen.
I woke up and walked downstairs. He was outside on the back porch smoking a cigarette. I had only a few moments to come up with a plan of how I was going to tell him to leave. Just a few brief moments. When he walked in the plan instantly was forgotten and I exploded.
I looked at him and told him pack your shit and get the fuck out. He was like huh? I caught him off guard. I told him again, pack your shit and get the fuck out. He knew then I was serious. I said it with such anger. I knew there had to be fire in my eyes. It was an absolute glorious moment! The moment I stood up for myself and would take no more shit!
To my surprise he didn’t buck it. He just called his mother and told her to come get him. He packed what little things he had and left. I looked out the window only once. Once, to make sure he was finally gone that he got in his mother’s car.
And with that day, a new chapter in my life began. I was able to complete college without fear, with out being harped on. I was finally able to check my Facebook and read emails without some one incessantly looking over my shoulder. I could finally be at peace.
“When I discover who I am I will be free.”
Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man
Surviving Domestic Violence 