First time mum/referee/ sleeve snot wiper to a wild toddler. Designated household bum changer. Blogging about this motherhood malarkey from a refreshingly honest and unfiltered perspective.

Life After Separation

It is almost six months since I became a single parent. It's crazy to think what has happened in such a short space of time. 

I am sometimes filled with an uneasy anxiety when I think back to the months before I chose to separate where I was consumed with guilt and confusion, a fear of the foreign, a heavy nostalgia for the familiar but, also, being washed with relief with what I knew was inevitability coming.
Understand, when you've spent such a long time with one person, they become home. It's really all you know. The thought of leaving something so safe, to tread into something so uncertain is scary and lonely that you question if its even the right choice. 

Having Arthur made my decision seem all the more impossible. I think he was the glue holding my relationship so delicately together. I never wanted Arthur to be the kid from the broken home. The kid who spent weekdays with Mum and weekends with Dad. Who would spend one Christmas with me and another wishing he wasn't. I have a guilt that grows. I convinced myself that it would be better to do it now when he was too little to understand than dragging it out years on but I know he'd rather his family together than apart. Who wouldn't? I know down the line, he will come with questions and confusion.

I wondered what would be left for me if I did choose to go.
Where would I live? Would I manage on my own? How would custody work? Could we still be civil? Was I making a massive mistake that I would come to regret a few months down the line? Did I even have the courage to take this massive plunge into the unknown?

Confusion. A feeling of being submerged and unable to breathe. 
I felt like I was crumbling. I was in a very low place. A place I have tried to run from that I still find at every corner. Trying to do the right thing for my son whilst desperately trying to escape this merciless feeling of being trapped. 

Because the love was gone. I was in place where I knew I needed to be alone. To learn how to be alone and not rely on someone else to feed the loneliness. I knew I couldn't stay somewhere because it was all I knew or because I wanted to grasp onto something that had long since died.

Though it was my decision, and I was certain of my choice (after weeks of fretting, contemplating, backtracking), it was still a very painful and difficult one.
It was hard to hurt the man who I once thought was my forever. It was a killer to knowingly break someones heart for the sake of my own shattering one.
To walk away from a dreamed future I hadn't yet lived. To cling hopelessly to an idea of love that maybe never even existed. To wrestle the guilt for just taking off one day.
To feel so much fear and doubt and terror. 
To leave my home, my safe place and begin all over again in empty walls and echoing rooms and blindly trust flickering reason that promised what would be, would be.
To be alone. Again.

But to also feel overcome with relief that I could finally breath again. A crushing weight had been lifted. To feel a sense of freedom and strength and independence. To feel liberated. Empowered. 
To trust my heart, and my belief that we were only meant to cross paths for a short time, ultimately heading in different directions but in the time spent, we welcomed a wonderful boy into the world and into our hearts.

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