My Last Goodbye

I’d smiled as I kissed him goodbye, wished him a good day and waved as he coasted down the driveway. He stopped at the end and looked back at me, I mouthed one last goodbye and he drove away.

I smiled until I saw his taillights disappear around the corner, and then I breathed a sigh of relief. I ran back into the house and set my plan in motion. I rustled through my overnight bag until I found the roll of black garbage bags that I had packed the previous night. In quick succession, I tore two, three, four, five bags off the roll and got to work filling them with all my belongings. Drawer after drawer I tore apart, rummaging through everything to make sure I left nothing behind. Somehow over the past eighteen months, nearly all my possessions had migrated from my home to this room. This room where I spent most nights, away from family, away from fiends…hidden away from the world around me with no one to turn to but him.

I tied a knot in the final bag and looked around me. All I could see was the devastation I was leaving behind. Not the empty drawers, not the scattered clothing, not the messy bed littered with coat hangers. None of that. It was the letter I was leaving that worried me the most. Sitting so innocuously on the pillow on his side of the bed. Written in a rush that morning while he was in the shower, it wasn’t even enclosed in an envelope. I wondered if he would even notice it sitting there, amongst the chaos of the room.

Nearly every word it contained was a lie.

I wrote about how I was the problem, not him.

I wrote about how I wanted to focus on finishing my degree without distractions.

I wrote about how I needed to take time to focus on myself.

I wrote about how I thought I wasn’t suited for a long-term relationship.

I wrote about my depression; those were the only truthful words I scribbled.

I stood there, silent, waiting. Looking back, I’m not exactly sure what for, but in that moment, I remember my heart pounding so hard I thought that it would leap clear out of my chest. A sharp, sour taste welled up in my throat as I choked back tears that threatened to fall. The hairs on my neck stood on end as the anxiety rose within me, taunting me with the thought that he could arrive back home at any minute. Telling me that he suspected something was wrong and had left work to see what I was up to.

Those thoughts spurred me forward. I collected bag after bag and loaded them quickly into my silver Getz. I gave the whole house a once over to ensure that nothing of mine remained. The cat weaved between my legs as I moved from one room to the next, the curiosity it could not voice was written clearly in its eyes. I walked into the bathroom and turned the tap on just enough for it to drip into the tub. The cat unwound herself from my ankles and pounced into the tub to lap at the steady drops of water. Scratching her under the chin, I said my goodbyes. Walking down the hall, I unwound the back door key from my key ring. Stepping out into the yard, I pulled the door shut behind me and locked it, before slipping the key in through the cat flap.

One more deep breath. I climbed into my car and in the next moment I was rolling down the driveway, turning right onto the main road and away from his home.

Driving away, I felt broken. The floodgates opened and the façade I had worn every day for the past eighteen months crumbled and flaked away. Simultaneously, a weight lifted from my shoulders and a ball of guilt weighed down my stomach.

I felt conflicted, but I was free.

I was doing the right thing.

I won’t lie to you, though. Life didn’t get any easier after this day. But this day was a new beginning for me.

Leaving him taught me independence.

Leaving him taught me to value myself.

Leaving him taught me to be brave.

And leaving him gave me the strength to live another day.