It's Been a Year

I remember perfectly how it all went down; how an argument led to calling up my mom at 1 in the morning to ask her to pick us (me and Laela) up at our townhouse in Project 6.

I vividly remember how he tried to stop me from leaving; how I said I just needed space, and that this was just a temporary thing.

I remember how he called me lazy; how he got so pissed about me not being able to serve him lunch, simply because I was exhausted from work and from taking care of our daughter; how my efforts have always gone to waste, whenever his expectations of how a good wife is supposed to be, were not met.

I remember how I asked my 'then' boss that I had to have my shift schedule adjusted, because I was emotionally distraught; only to wake up in the middle of the night, to an empty house, with no signs of the person you depended on to watch over your kid once you left for work. I remember how I called my bosses up, to tell them that I had to go on leave because he was gone.

I remember how finally, I had the chance to leave, and that I didn't think twice about packing up. How I called up my father-in-law and told him I'm done, and that I couldn't do this anymore.

I can't believe it's been a year since all of this happened. I can't believe that the reality of being separated has graduated to a year. What's most ironic is how our anniversary/monthsary falls on the 27th of each month... and that exact date would be the day when I'd leave.

I always thought that marriages were set in stone; that the commitment you have is for life, and that those vows, though broken, should still be followed through, "til death do you part"; but how can an abused person live through more years of pain? How can one stand a person who refuses to love you the way you should be loved?

I might be judged for the life I live now, that I simply followed my parents' footsteps, and dove into the statistic of the dysfunctional and separated; but again, I stand by my decision, not out of pride, not out of some selfish intent, but rather, out of love -- love for my daughter, and love for myself.

So here I am, celebrating my first anniversary alone at the store, out of that wretched place I used to call home.. indeed, the greatest life lessons are learned the hard way, but nevertheless, learned, and mastered.