I am no wiser than you. I am not stronger. I am not more in tune with my intuition. I am not more courageous. I am not a better judge of character.
I do not deserve praise for my actions. I'm not worthy of envy or admiration. I shouldn't be recognized as making better decisions.
When I was with him, I wanted to stay put. Friends tried to warn me. Family tried to warn me. My ears preferred to be deaf. The hurt and frustration came in waves, like a daily tide you could predict by the position of the moon. I could see it coming, in the distance, again and again. I hoped, every time, it would be different. But it was the same. Over and over.
I clung to any shred of positivity I could find. Any kind word. Any semi-thoughtful gesture. I thought I could change him. I thought I could save him. I thought I could save us. So noble in my quest, I stayed and stayed, all the while feeling in my gut that I'd be better off leaving.
But I didn't leave.
Because I am not wiser or stronger or braver than any one else who is trapped under love's thumb.
The only reason my situation is not yours is that he set me free.
I am luckier than you, only because I was released. Not by my own hand, but by my captor's. And oh how I wish I could uncurl your captor's fingers and release you, too.
Because the freedom from that hurt tastes so incredibly sweet.