He spoke those words to me on the eve of Mother's Day. The words that say "I'm done", "I give up", "I don't love you anymore", "you are not the One". He spoke them so quietly but so matter of fact, "I want a divorce". My heart knew it was time to say goodbye. I nodded in agreement.
What I didn't know was those words would destroy everything. While I tried to regain myself, to build up some courage, I was losing control. My heart sank further and further away from my little family. I cherished every precious moment with them, but my light was fading fast.
Depression creeped in like a thief in the night. It made me bitter, angry, fearful. Every hateful and controlling word he spat at me sunk deeper into my soul. I didn't feel worthy of anything good anymore. While the realist in me said that it was just a facade, the lining of my subconscious began to tear away. The more my nightmares grew and became so vivid.
I remember waking up and crying every night. I would wake from these terrors in fear of my death, in fear of my children being robbed from my bosom. The pain I felt deep within me leaked into my everyday wanderings. I became a ghost of myself, I felt tortured.
Then one day I sank so far away. I was ready for everything to end. I no longer could breathe. My lungs had collapsed like my hope. I wanted so badly to feel no more pain, I needed my tortured soul to rest.
I prepared for the end. I wrote out my plan, I shared my thought with one I didn't think would worry. Then all I could think of was how dark this cloud above me had become, I would be sending those around me to a personal hell. I delayed, frozen in this thought. Still completely unable to breathe or move beyond the grip of death.
And then I was given hope.
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