I once asked my mom why she divorced my dad. She told me, “I was sick all week, and one morning your dad woke me up asking what I was making for breakfast. I told him I felt awful and needed sleep. He made breakfast for himself and never asked if I wanted anything.” It wasn’t the breakfast, she said. It was realizing that if she didn’t take care of herself, nobody would notice. That stayed with me. I realized people rarely leave because of one terrible moment. Sometimes they leave because of a thousand tiny moments that quietly convince them they’re alone.
Meu ovário toda vez que eu vejo uma mãe que abriu mão da própria vida, largou carreira, sonhos, ambições e vive descalça e grávida na beira de um fogão casada com um homem inútil (é o meu pior pesadelo)