Time for a change

The sea was savage. It raged, white where it wasn't grey. It was large, a beast clawing at the rocks. Pebbles clattered in the undertow, roiling and rolling in the sea's power.

She'd had to leave the house. They'd argued again. As she was walking, the spray hit her face. It reminded her of his spittle as he'd shouted at her.

His eyes - so wild, so angry, so white. Like they would burst. It was unfathomable. She knew she was the cause but she didn't know what caused it. He hadn't hit her - yet - but she'd seen his fists clench.

Walking helped. Head bowed, the wind rushing past her ears, the cold salt on her cheeks - it all helped. The rhythm of her steps gave her direction and nature cocooned her with its raw wildness. Its anger wasn't directed at her; it just was. There was a comfort in that. Nature continued regardless and she was caught up in its day as it blustered and pummelled and crashed around her. Things go on.

She realised that she could feel powerless, to know that she could do nothing to stop nature's pushing and shoving but instead, she allowed it to empower her, to know that she was part of something bigger that was indiscriminate in its blessings and its strikes. There was a wider world beyond the narrowness of her life and she felt like she should reach for it, that it was presenting itself to her in its unfiltered light and offering an alternative.

She just had to take it.

The wind rushed in her ears as she trudged through the wet sand, her thighs taut from controlling her path. She leant into the wind and thought.

She was tired - literally - as sleep did not come, but also tired of her situation and dealing with it. She'd tried to talk to him, to reason but this was always where it ended up, with her being shouted at. She needed to extricate herself. The thought of it made her weary. So much shared. The material items like house, car, furniture but also friends, family, circles. To remove herself from him would mean removing herself from everything.

Is this why she hadn't done it yet, the difficulty of it? Perhaps this was why he was so angry. It came to her like an epiphany. He kept pushing, eyes proud, words angry and punishing and she remained, like a rock stack - isolated but stoical in the face of the onslaught of confidence-bashing and attempts to undermine.

The ground under her feet grew firmer as the sand gave way to rocks and she contemplated turning back. The waves rushed in, filling cracks and crevices to make pools. She stopped and took a moment to focus on the boom. She breathed in deeply. She didn't want to go back. Not yet.

Determinedly, she continued over the rocks, conscious of their potential slipperiness and the encroaching tide, being spurred on by blasts of wind. Gulls called from overhead, whirling and circling as the wind buffeted them, their cries harsh but filled with energy.

Why didn't he leave her? If he was so unhappy, why didn't he go? She wondered, not for the first time, if there was someone else. Surely, if there was, it would be easy to just depart, to lie in the arms of another, for his features soften and his laughter lines grow. She couldn't remember the last time he laughed with her.

She felt warmer. The walk was getting her blood pumping and the noise was taking her way from the barking he'd issued earlier. She clambered, her foot placement crucial. She felt the satisfaction at the rightness of her choices, the sureness as her foot landed.

What were her options? She had a job. Not well paid but she might be able to support herself. Where would she live? She didn't know. She would need to do research. Should she get a credit card? She thought she should. Regardless. She felt like she should plan.

She'd come quite a way. The rocks flattened and gave way to sand once more. She was higher up the beach here, with the path she'd taken and it was quieter. In the distance, a dog leapt for a stick held by its owner, its enthusiasm and determination making her smile. And then it was thrown and the dog ran and ran, ears back, galloping, splashing until the stick was secured and it trotted with pride back to its owner.

She thought she knew why he didn't leave. He wanted to be in control but didn't want the guilt of the break. If he could say that she left, well, that would be easier and then, if he did move his girlfriend in, that would be because it's difficult for a man to be on his own. Platitudes and established behavioural norms would protect him from too much questioning.

She didn't want to gift him her absence, an easy exit but for the first time in months, she felt lighter. She wouldn't leave yet but she would leave when she was ready. When she was ready. And she would be.

Determined, she turned and walked back to her car, to her house, to her life but she knew with certainty that it was not going to be the same life that she had endured that morning.

It was time for a change.