I don't know who this divorce has turned me into. I hardly recognized her, but I love her.

As you read this, it's almost 1 am. My mind is calm. I am in the queen-size bed with my 4-year-old son and a 10-month-old daughter. I've been looking back over all the decisions I made this month to see how I've treated myself. I just finished journaling. 

She’s still here. My mama. It makes me so emotional to type this and say it out loud. Growing up, my mama gave me a lot of tough love. I didn’t get many hugs, kisses, or motherly affection. I also didn’t have a father figure in my life and witnessed how it molded my mother mentally and emotionally. After almost 29 years, I still have her, and I’m thankful. Today is her birthday, and by God’s grace, she’s still in good health. When I separated from my spouse last year, my mama had my back. 

It’s been officially three months since my spouse and I separated. I still congratulate myself for having the strength to leave. I have made it through some of my darkest days during these past three months. 

Healing from the trauma, my eight-year marriage caused me left me some nights of tear-stained pillows. I cried at 12am New Year Day as I heard fireworks go off from my hotel room. Eli and Alina were asleep in bed as I stood with the window slightly opened, holding onto one of the cream beige curtains. I made it to 2022 without him physically with or around me. Him being my husband. After spending damn near 9 years of welcoming in the New Year with him, 

Photo by Alonso Reyes on Unsplash