When I decided that he had to leave, it was a brave step into the light. I packed up some of his things into black bags. I placed them outside the door. When he came he called for me to open the door. I told him to go away or I would call the police.
He cried and pleaded to come in to collect things. This time I was strong. For years his wants came before us. Well now I was going to stick to my guns.
I told him no. It’s seems so easy to say but I wasn’t strong enough to say it before. I took back the power. I now have the power.
In Islam divorce is permitted yet for him it was not a choice I could make. I was his wife regardless of whether I wanted to be.
For him it was his needs that mattered. The fact that he would never give us space to breathe was something we had to cope with.
For so long I made it clear that in my mind it was over. He was not my husband. He ignored my pleading for him to move on.
The calls were coming thick and fast. I stood firm, I was finally proud of myself. No longer putting his crocodile tears above my want to finally be free of him.
Why can he not follow the teachings of Islam and leave me in peace? This world is large enough for him to find someone else. He will not as I was a well trained servant who meet all his needs when he met none of mine.
I broke my chains, I freed myself from his control.