He called me a fucking bitch.
It may have been the quickest evaluation I have ever mentally processed; I remember this moment.
I thought about it. Was I being a bitch?
No, I knew with certainty that this was not the definition of bitch.
I clarified, “I’m being a bitch?”
He raised his voice; rambling on.
I defined a bitch in that moment; when he was through.
I clarified for him.
“No, I was NOT a bitch. THIS is a bitch!!”
I locked the door; locking him out of the house.
The minutes that followed that act of defiance, were not the best of scenarios.
And yet, I don’t regret it.
Can you let that settle?
Can you understand?
It was my own moment of empowerment.
I may have paid a small price, but I needed that;
I never liked the victim status.
I hate the idea of fight or flight; and yet, I understand it so well.
I have done both in my life.
On this day, I fought.
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