Eleven years ago, almost to the day, we moved here. This was supposed to be a fresh start. After two years of illnesses, this was supposed to be a place of respite and sanctuary. You don’t know the meaning of those words. I didn’t choose this path but I’m starting to learn it is the right one for me. I didn’t understand terms like “emotional abuse” and “controlling behavior.” Tomorrow I escape.
I fell, tripping on the steps up to my front door. The mail went flying, the backpack fell from my shoulder. I hit my right knee/lower leg, right wrist and hand on the concrete steps. Pain shot up from my knee and down my arm. I was on all fours on the steps for several seconds and I actually cried out due to the pain. You walked over to me and asked what happened. I said I fell! I know you are no longer my husband, but I’ve seen you treat strangers better than this. I was truly physically hurt. “I don’t know what you want.” How about you help me up? I would do this to a stranger. Thank God this is the last night I have to spend in this house. You are not a good person.
crazytiredmom 