The past few summers have been a shit show. I mean, I’m sure there’s a better way to put it, but why sugar coat it. They were.
There’s the summer three years ago when I sat around every single day trying to find the courage to tell my husband that I was leaving. The amount of stress and exhaustion were enough to kill me…and I’m pretty sure they almost did.
There’s the summer two years ago where I was still scared of doing anything wrong. Anything at all that could make me somehow lose my kids. And the guilt of leaving was still so fresh that I constantly gave in to unhealthy behaviors simply to stay afloat.
Last summer was the worst. Going through the divorce and custody battle caused my anxiety to be at an all time high. I was nervous going anywhere even when I didn’t have the kids because something could go wrong. I couldn’t make one wrong decision or one single misstep because it could come back to bit me in the ass. I actually think I have slight PTSD from my custody/divorce battle. I actually had to turn my email notifications off my phone because hearing the ding reminded me of all the emails from my lawyer and I actually start to shut down.
This is the first summer where I finally feel free. Free to go on vacations with and without the kids. Free to make decisions without constantly worrying about what someone else might think or make an issue of. Free to mention Joe’s name without worrying about the repercussions.
It’s an amazing feeling, but you know what’s funny? It’s almost like a piece of me is missing now. I held on to all that worry, all that anxiety, all that anger for so long, that there is a void. What do I worry about now? What do I think about now? What should I do now?
Luckily, it’s still summer and for the first time in forever I can allow myself to find these answers. I can allow myself to figure out who I am or who I want to be. And most importantly I can actually allow myself to breathe.
Grace Before Perfection 