One month ago today I snuck out of my marriage with only my license, car keys, debit cards hidden in my bra, and a water bottle, careful not to wake up my abusive husband as he slept. I chose my own personal safety and self respect over an “easy” life of pretending things were okay and letting him convince me that abuse was love.
This has been an immensely hard month. Some days I forget and I’m so, so happy, but other days I feel like there’s not any point in trying anymore.
But if the past 30 days haven’t killed me, then I think I’ll be okay for at least the next thirty days, and the thirty days after that, until one day none of this will hurt anymore.
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