Rae stood on the threshold, peering down into the eyes of her beloved dog, the dog she had adopted one year ago and promised to love forever. His eyes broke her heart. He knew she was hurting. He knew she was leaving - and that almost tempted her to stay - again. She wished she could make him understand why. “Why does this feel like you're leaving for good?” her fiancé asked her. Because it is, she didn't answer out loud. She offered a weak smile through her tears and kissed him one last time. “I'll see you in a week,” she lied, and closed the door behind her. With her head held high and fists clenched, she silently got in her car and backed out of the driveway. It wasn't until she was around the corner that she let the sobs escape. Once released, they came forth in violent waves – months and months of heartache, frustration, anger, despair, anxiety, depression, confusion, fear, grief. She cried so hard she gasped for breath and her tears blurred her vision, but she couldn't stop - not this time. She had to keep going. She had turned around so many times before. It had to be for real this time. Episodes from their 14 years together replayed in her mind – scenes she'd replayed over and over again, analyzing every harsh word exchanged, wondering for the millionth time if she had over-reacted. But even if she had, did his words and actions have to make her feel so horrible? She'd let it slide for 14 years. She'd made up excuses for him – he'd been neglected by his father and bullied by peers, so it made sense that he always had to be right, that he was constantly trying to prove himself. She could forgive that. She could forgive his bossiness, his need to be in control, his double standards. She could forgive that he sucked at romance and thoughtful gifts. She could forgive a lot of things, and she had, for a long, long time. But then they bought a house, and got a dog, and they both had careers they loved, and she'd asked him (again) if they could get married…and he said no. That's when she finally started to realize that there would always be excuses, because he was a controlling, emotionally abusive, narcissistic asshole. That's when Rae had come to the incredibly painful realization that she had to leave. She had to somehow let go of the last 14 years of her life and find a way to move forward on her own, no matter how terrifying it might be. An hour later she arrived at her cousin's, who greeted her with a kind hug and showed her to the spare bedroom. A twin air mattress and small table had been set up in between the closet and the rabbit cage. This was going to be her living space for the next several months. Deciding to embrace it, Rae set down her luggage and drove across the street to the Walmart to pick out some bedding. Standing there in the aisle, viewing all the options, she couldn't help but smile. Is this what freedom felt like? She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the store by herself, let alone picked out something she wanted, without his opinions and insults of her tastes, and his disgusting misuse of the word “compromise". There had never been any compromising with him – it had just been him convincing her why his idea was better. Nothing had ever been good enough for him if he wasn't the one to make the decision. Selecting a blue and purple sheet set and a small lamp, Rae made her way to the check out with a little skip in her step. Back at her cousin's apartment, she reflected on how amazing it felt to actually have a space to call her own - just hers. She realized that this feeling she was experiencing - this feeling of inner peace and safety, of self-expression - was what she had been missing for so long. Was it the absence of this feeling that had driven her to therapy and antidepressants? Was it really as simple as just having your own space? Rae didn't sleep that night. She was too anxious; excited for the new sense of freedom and positive experiences that lay before her, but also dreading the grief and despair she knew she would have to endure in order to heal and move on. A few days later, she drove two hours to the airport. She parked her car in the long-term parking lot and boarded a shuttle. She checked in for her flight, received her ticket, and found her way to her gate. All by herself. After boarding the plane and finding her window seat, she sent a selfie to a friend. They responded, “You look happy.” Gazing out the window, Rae realized that she was, in fact, happy. Deeply, authentically happy. More than that, she knew that this was the first of many amazing adventures she was going to take herself on. She was a strong, amazing, independent woman, and she was going to be okay.
I took this really pretty leaf from the ground on my way back home after school. It was a bright yellow with shades of orange blending toward a warm red . It was spiky on the edges, not enough to hurt, just tough on the surface. With the joy of a child being given candies, I happily and gently picked it up and almost in awe inspected its shape with the intent to bring it back home with me. It was a nice autumn leaf and I wanted to put it into my diary where I keep my hidden thoughts and feelings. So I opened the diary and cautiously made space for my newly discovered little treasure, then softly placed it inside on a blank page in order to let it dry completely. I was really excited about what would have been the out come, imagining how gracious it was going to look after I was done with it. It was such a perfect leaf but it needed some work, I fixed it with some tape so that it stayed in place. I waited some days and I was now back to my daily routine completely forgetting about my pretty and lonely leaf. But one day out of boredom I opened my journal to write something down and the leaf appeared in between some pages. It was different however. It was hideous and almost revolting to the sight. I was startled and overwhelmed. It was now an ugly and horrifying dead plant and I didn't know what to do with it. It was green mixed with brown and it was now covered in little bumps that resembled a skin allergy. I hated it yet I thought it would change over time if I waited some more, after all I was the one who picked it up and cared for it, all my work would go to waste, all my effort, all my hopes. I couldn't just abandon it, it needed me, and I needed it to work. I needed to prove I was worthy and capable. Despite it bringing me no happiness whatsoever, I had hope in a better future, in the name of trust and love. And so, days passed and again I slowly forgot about my dear leaf, it caught me by surprise when one day, while picking up my diary, it fell on the floor and this time the horror was even more frightening; it had gone moldy leaving my diary pages ruined where it laid, it fell on the floor and small little bugs crawled out and run under the surface of my room's furniture haunting me and leaving me anxious they might return. I picked up my once pretty leaf and with great anguish and distress I felt forced to get rid of it, as delicately as I could, I collected it from the wooden floor and saw how foolish and stubborn I had been to keep it for so long. And soon I realised the leaf I first held in my hands was long gone, my precious leaf was never meant to be kept in such a place, it had to follow its own path. Live and die under its tree, its mother, to fertilize her soil and feed little creatures outdoors. Love is about appreciation and not possession, I had been greedy and unfair and the leaf had to face the consequences.