I don't know how I did it but there was a spark inside of me. A strength that was kindled by a Divine power that could not be ignored. It became stronger than the fear. I became stronger than the fear. It made me pack, it made me take one step in front of the other and finally step out and close the door behind me. I felt like I was in a daze when I did it. I had no emotions I just did, like I was on autopilot.
I managed to pack my clothes, shoes, books, personal belongings and kitchen stuff but left all furniture and items I will survive without. There are still plenty of my things in that house and I do hope to one day get them back but I don't know if I will. And it will not kill me if I don't. (Staying would have killed me.)
When I had thought of me leaving in the past I had envisioned it as a Hollywood movie where I would walk out the house with loud empowering music playing, friends embracing me on the street outside high five:ing me, and with a smile on my face I would just walk away... Proud.
That surely didn't happen. When I closed that door behind me I was a lonely nervous wreck asking myself (still) if I had done the right thing, even if I knew I had. I talked to my unknowing ex one last time on the phone, told him I loved him one last time - it wasn't genuine but I did it anyway. Then I turned my phone and location tracker off and a relief washed over me.
He was not able to call or text me. He didn't know where I was. I had done it... finally.
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