One year ago tonight, my children and I slept on the futon of my sister's house. We lived the next few days with our belongings in laundry baskets, me attempting to keep things "normal" for the kids and to keep myself from having a heart attack from the terror of leaving John. It's been 365 days. Tonight, I will sleep in my own bed. Like when I was married to him, I will get up at 0430 hours tomorrow and get myself and the kids around to leave so I can go to work. I will do it on my own, clean off my own car, shovel my own driveway, and pack everyone's stuff. I will still stay up late tonight so I can clean after the kids are in bed.
But this time, this year, things are different. I will be able to turn on the light when I get dressed, I won't have to worry about a child's cry waking him up, I won't get into trouble for using the blender to make my breakfast. Tomorrow, as I work, I won't have to try to balance a bazillion text messages and phone calls asking what I'm doing, where I am, who I am with, and why my tonal inflictions are they way they are. Thank God that stress is gone! Today, I celebrated by taking every single piece of lingerie and other "things" I learned to loathe to the dump. I loaded my van with the few remaining objects in the house that had been damaged in fits of anger and threw them into a deep pit of garbage They are all gone now, never to be looked at by me again.
Today, I've deemed to be Freedom Day. It's difficult to uproot your life and leave a situation even when that is the only option left. Being free, though, is worth it.