The Fear Ends Here

For as long as I can remember, I have walked on eggshells, always trying to avoid setting him off. I would rush home before he arrived so dinner would be ready, because he liked to eat at the same time every night. I would quickly clean up the kids’ toys, trying to make everything perfect. I never knew what mood would come through the door. If he was happy, the whole house could breathe. But if he was in a mood, we would all know about it.

He says now that he never made me clean or come home at a certain time. Maybe that’s true. Maybe I did it to myself. But why did I do it? Because it felt safer. Because I knew that if I didn’t, the silence, the anger, the throwing things, or the days of being ignored would follow. Maybe I was the one who set all those boundaries for myself and my kids, not out of love, but out of fear.

That’s the thing about living on eggshells: you train yourself to shrink, to bend, to sacrifice parts of yourself just to keep the peace. And in the process, you stop feeling free in your own home.

I don’t want my children to think this is what love looks like. I don’t want them to believe this is normal. So I am learning — slowly, painfully, to step off the eggshells and take up my space again.

The Fear Ends Here. I Choose Me