I’m finally moving out at the end of July

I’ve been making plans to move out at the end of July. Browsing for furniture, figuring out logistics, getting things organized. But for some reason, today it really hit me that I’m actually doing it. I’m moving out.

My husband and I have had issues for over three years. Early on, people told me not to make any big decisions. That I’d regret it. That I was being stupid. To work it out. So I tried. We started sleeping in separate rooms, thinking space might help. But instead of improving, things got worse. He became paranoid. Thought people were out to get him. Said others were sabotaging him or trying to hurt him. His emotions got unstable. At times, he was emotionally abusive to my son. I shut it down immediately, but I knew then I needed to start figuring out a way to leave.

In January, I had to take him to the ER because of his drinking. They kept him there for almost a week and told him he was high risk for liver cirrhosis. He promised to quit. Said he would change. That didn’t happen. So I told him I was leaving. I didn’t want my kids to grow up watching their dad drink himself to death. I gave myself a clear deadline. End of the year.Even if no one agreed and my family disowns me, I’m leaving.

And now it’s happening. We found a place. I’m moving. I’m feeling relief, worry, stress, sadness, hope. I know this is the right move, but man is it hard.