This is How You Leave Him
Sep 9, 2018 · 4 min read

By the time I left Des Moines, I was ragged and raw, nerve-shot and wrung out. Every minute of my life had begun to feel like the seconds in a horror movie right before the horrible thing happens — heart racing, muscles tensed, breath inaccessible. He’d been drinking again, and when he drinks, he rages.
The morning before I left — one rare, clear-eyed morning for him — he considered me silently for a moment, and said…


