I have been going round and round with this, and it is a difficult thing really to make a decision to move on. My friends advise, don’t say anything until you are ready to go. Wait until the last moment. Hide it, don’t say anything.
I do not sleep at night.
I think about what was done to me. The months of sneaking and hiding, the months of pretending. The months of knowing the next step and not telling me. Springing it on me like a freight train on a bicycle.
What you are fucking crazy woman. Que la dilla, Que mala. Que pena.
You hit me with a freight train. I never saw it coming.
I am awake, remembering. I am awake realizing that my endless prayer is answered. Why did he leave me, why. I know. I know. It took me three years to get the answer and it is painful but I understand. I am so thankful.
Later, as I sit beading glass windchimes at the table, I ask. How would you feel if I got my own place. I would be okay with it. I want my own space, I want my own home, I want autonomy, I have had my own home and my own free will for most of 25 years, it is so hard for me. I have lived alone for 30 years, this is too hard for me too.
I am strong enough to handle the news. He is strong enough to handle the news.
How wonderful is this thing, how good it is, how mature and reasonable.