So it’s been two
years, give or take, since I made my bid for freedom. That makes me sound far
more courageous than I actually am. Truth be known had my big little brother
not been there at the time my life would not be what it is today, assuming I
would actually have survived...
I’d had enough,
enough of the beatings, the control, of basically living in fear. I feared not
only for me and my safety but for my two little girls.
For months, well
honestly probably more years I’d been looking for ways out. I’d tried to get
away, though I probably wasn’t as committed as I could have been. Something had
changed this night, what I have no idea, but, there had been a definite shift.
I was going to end it and regain my self- respect, my dignity and my freedom.
I marched into the
living room bold and brazen (my brother was sat on the sofa) and told my
abusive partner of 4 years that it was over. Then promptly left the room
leaving my big little brother to deal with fallout (like I said nowhere near as
courageous as I’d have you believe), while took myself off to bed.
The following
morning, with the help of the brother, I packed enough clothes and toys to see
us through and left.
Was it really
going to be SO easy to walk away, was he going to let me go after all this time
and all those threats of unspeakable cruelties to not only me but my friends
and family? Of course not.
So despite it
having been two years, give or take, am I yet really free and more importantly
will I ever be?
No comments:
Post a Comment