Me: I think we should separate for a while. I don’t know how to make you happy anymore. 

Him: And where the fuck will you go if we separate?  

Me: We can figure that out together. 

Him: Get out. Get the fuck out of my house.  

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So I went home and stayed with my parents for a week. It was actually a really nice week, I didn’t spend my time trying to make a miser happy. I prepared meals for myself and then enjoyed eating them. I slept when and for how long I wanted. I took baths without locking the bathroom door. I told my parents stories about my marriage that made them weep. I was sad to make them sad. I was happy to be believed.