Life-sustaining

Last night was intolerable. Embarrassing. When he calls me names, I feel so stupid. Not because I am dumb but because I am still in this fucked up relationship. Stupid for believing his lies. Stupid for thinking he could ever know how to love anyone.

This morning he says, “Good morning honey!” As if we are friends. Like my back isn’t throbbing from sleeping on the couch he got free from the neighbor. The couch he refused to allow me to replace, even though it hurts to sit on it. Because I am stupid. We can’t get a new couch because I am stupid. Got that? I waste money on things like decent furniture. See how bad I am. I am so wasteful. I wish I had bought a new couch.

Who calls someone white trash and double flips them the bird at 11pm and then says, “Good morning honey!” at 8am? My soon-to-be ex-husband. And when he announced in a chipper cheery voice “Good morning honey!” that’s when I decided that I need to move out no matter what. Love me or hate me but don’t tell me you love me, call me trash, tell me to go fuck myself, and then wake up amnesiatic of all previous events. It’s so dishonest. One of these things can’t be true. You cannot both love me and tell me to go fuck myself while giving me the double bird. That’s not what love looks like. I have to move out. Even if I don’t have my equity from our house. I will rent an apartment. I will rent an apartment as early as April 1st. I can tell the fool I am moving out on April Fools Day. It’s poetic.

But then the governor announced that only life-sustaining businesses are allowed to remain open because of coronavirus. And I respect his decision. Although, to me, a realtor is life sustaining at this moment. But realtors were specifically told to close. Maybe I can get an apartment without a realtor. I will try. Zillow only has one right now. Just one apartment. One apartment that is probably too expensive for me.

The courts have closed. The realtors, not open. In a stroke of accidental genius, beer stores are considered life-sustaining. They closed the wine stores. They closed the realtors. But sick and isolated people need beer, I guess.

My husband has announced that he is not going to work for the rest of the month. He is using sick time to prevent himself from getting sick. That would be great, if I wasn’t afraid of him. If he didn’t put me on edge. If I was sleeping in my comfortable bed instead of the neighbors free couch.

I have to move out as soon as I physically can. I have to move out. As soon as possible. Moving out is life-sustaining no matter what the governor says.

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