Today when I woke up and got ready for my day, I did not put on my wedding ring. I knew I was filing for a divorce today and so there was no need for my ring. I went to the courthouse by myself, as I filled out the paperwork my hands were shaking, my heart rate was high, my heart ached, my brain was roller coasting through every thought and memory related to him. One memory in particular stands out, last year when my sister, Martha, passed away; David refused to attend the funeral with me. He told me I was on my own, that it was a family matter and to leave him out of it. He called me a fucking psycho for expecting him to come to the funeral with me. I attended her funeral without him, the grief from losing her made me blind to how terrible and hurtful his behavior was. Even while I was home for her funeral he continued his terrible text messages and name calling. On the day I buried my sister he again called me a fucking psycho for trying to reach out to him via text. For the last 11 months I have been trying to make sense out of his cruelness towards me during that time. But, you see, it isn’t just that one bad time. David thrived on hurting me, making me feel worthless, unimportant, and alone. David routniely called me names such as a fucking cunt, bitch, worthless, pathetic, ugly, fat, lazy, and crazy. I began to feel as though I was all of those horrible things he said I was. I started to feel like a miserable person and bad person, like everything was my fault because that is what he told me. But, I am none of those things and I allowed him to rob me of my courage, strength and happiness. I let him hurt me because I was too scared to leave and because I rarely ever truly stood up for myself. I am the girl who can walk across the country by herself, hang from ledges in the Grand Canyon, help animals in need, make people laugh, but, for some reason I could not stand up to him. I could not see clearly enough to leave. I endured his constant threats of divorcing me, his punishment of ignoring me for weeks and sometimes months at a time if I did something wrong, his drinking and broken promises of getting sober. I let him intimidate me, abandon me, mock me, call me terrible names, break my possessions, threaten me, sexually and physical assault me. I let him take the best parts of who I was and I watched as he suffocated them. Dealing with grief from losing Martha has taken a huge toll on me physically and mentally and then adding the stress from our marriage on top of that became too much for me. I decided to take my life back, I decided to talk about what he did and how much he hurt me because I feel as though it is an important part of of the healing process. With all of that said, I can be a difficult, selfish, unfriendly person at times, and that somehow made me believe that I deserved his abuse, that if for example I just didn’t have a pissy tone with him that he wouldn’t have called me a cunt or ignored me for weeks. But that is flawed logic, because nothing I have done wrong has ever warranted any of his abuse. The problem is NOT me. Somewhere deep down I have always known that, but, admitting it and taking action is hard, it is hard to divorce your husband, it is hard to feel alone, to feel unsure. Despite that, today, I had to take action, I had to stand up and tell him that I was leaving him. That I will no longer allow his abuse to destroy who I am. That I was going to be my own rescue boat and sail far away. That I had a life to live, I just needed to remember who I was, to remember how strong I was and what adventures I had left. So I filed for divorce, took the paperwork to the Sheriff to have him served and drove home. I swear as I was driving home I saw Martha smile and give me a thumbs up. Before she passed she encouraged me to divorce him, but I didn’t listen. She always said, don’t let anyone treat you as though you are free salsa, because baby, you are guacamole 🙂 I finally took her wise advise.