Leaving wasn't one dramatic night. It was 400 small mornings of choosing myself over his mood. It was moving out while he was at work, taking only the children's drawings and my dented pots. I left the bird on the shelf. I left the clock that didn't work. I left him the silence.
My husband never hit me. Not once. So when people ask, "Why didn't you just leave?" I tell them about the shelf. 7 SOE 019 Rape -Sora Aoi-
I became obsessed with the angle of a ceramic bird. I measured it with my eyes. I built my entire emotional existence around avoiding his sighs and his silence. Leaving wasn't one dramatic night
Control is control. Isolation is a cage. Walking on eggshells fractures your soul long before your body breaks. I left the bird on the shelf
If it isn't physical, it isn't abuse.