Every day that passes feels like a revelation, a shocking unveil of his true character. It's not the sort of surprise you look forward to; rather, it's the kind that leaves you gasping, wondering how a person could be so devoid of empathy. How can a man not love his own children? How can he wake up every morning only thinking about fueling his ego, no matter who he hurts, no matter the consequences?
Addiction. That's the monster here. It's reared its ugly head three times, in just one day. It's a vile situation that I find myself trapped within. Over the past five years, I've reached out to his family, sought their help, but it's only become progressively worse. I've been stuck caring for him, this man who is more a burden than a partner, my life turned into a prison of his making.
The housing crisis doesn't make it any easier. Raising my babies in this environment, it's a daily struggle. Every day, he cuts me down, calling me a "welfare bum," accusing me of squatting in a house that was supposed to be a gift, a lie crafted to win me back. But I'm no fool. If I had known the truth, I would've left five years ago.
But I'll tell you this – I am angry. I am now an educated and proud feminist. I will not stand for this bullshit any longer. I have worked too hard, cried too many tears, lost too many hours of sleep to let this continue. I have a safety plan. I am ready.
This is more than just a blog post. This is a declaration. His days of getting away with this are over. I may be trapped in a housing crisis, I may be raising my babies amidst chaos, but I am not powerless. I am not a victim. I am a fighter. And I am ready to fight.