If you asked me about my ex’s family, I would tell you about how much my children love them.

But if you asked me on a deeper level…

I’d tell you about his mother and how she became a second mother to me. I asked for her to be at my births because I needed her. I chose to name my third son after her.

She was one of my favourite people. I felt so safe with her. I could tell her anything. I cried to her on my hardest days. She calmed me, celebrated me, loved me as if we had always known eachother.

I’d tell you that his family was my family. I never felt like “his partner”.

I was a daughter, a sister, a niece and a granddaughter.

The love I felt for them and gave to them was real.

Sometimes when a relationship ends, you don’t just lose one person.

You lose an entire family you thought would always be yours.

And that’s a grief I wasn’t ready for.

What actions in your day allow you to feel satisfied in yourself?

I was one of those kid’s who saw themselves as the main character in the movie. A high achiever in school. A committed friend and lover. Always adjusting her diet and lifestyle. A daughter who wanted every member of her family to feel seen, and loved. I cared deeply about being the best version of myself to the point of feeling sick to my stomach.

I have always felt that huge pressure to be the very best Christine in every corner of my world.

There was always a loud, angry voice in my head telling me,

“You can do better than this.”

And now at 25 years old, I am a single mother of 3 children living at my sister’s house. I’m starting life over again for the millionth time.
And that familiar pressure that usually lives full time in my chest has now tripled in weight. I have always had an issue in a lack of satisfaction in my productivity, in my worth, in my value; in allowing my nervous system to feel safe in my day to day.

There is a never ending list of things to do, and improve on.

It is running on loop inside my head:

Limit screen time. Healthy meals. Quality time with kids. Workout. Socialise. School. Homework. Work. Save money. Lose weight. Create a home. Dress well. Skincare. Night routine. Morning routine. High vibrational music. Spiritual wellbeing. Dentist. Hobbies. Mental health walks. Therapy. Clean kitchen. Organise cupboards. Service the car. Fill the gas tank. Post on social media. Lawyer meetings. More therapy. Parenting courses. Psychic reading. Business meetings. Stay hydrated. Work on my gut health. Make the beds in the morning. See my friends. Make new friends. Journaling. Cook dinner. Bake with my kids. Wipe down the highchair straight away, cause if you don’t it hardens like concrete. Put on a load of washing. Fold and put it away. Me time. Sing. Edit the videos. Find a hobby. Start YouTube again. Make more money. Save more money. Buy furniture. Buy bedding. Buy kids clothes. Buy educational resources. Buy calm down box things. Buy boxes to store these new things in. I need more milk again. Buy takeaways. Make a roast dinner. Should I be dating? Take your supplements. Make school lunches. Put on a load of washing. Fold washing and put away. Send in content. Film. Return the wrong size shoes. Reset the kitchen. Read books to the kids. Help the kids make a present for daddy. Put the rubbish out. Put on the dishwasher. Donate the 10 bags of clothing. Sell the couch. Attend the event. Order samples. Start creating a website. Floss your teeth. Clean the car. You’re not doing enough.

Cry. Suck it up. Deep breaths.

I cannot drop any of the balls.

I am ridiculously overwhelmed. I know I am doing all the right things. I am always trying. I am always busy.

I am tending to my children’s endless needs, and enjoying all the moments of young childhood that I can.

But when I say, “I am doing more than enough,” I say it with defence in my stance, and shame in my throat.

When I was younger, success was measurable.

You got the grade, you passed the test, you ticked off your small chores list, you finished the project.

Motherhood doesn’t work like that. There is no measurement of how well I am doing and there is no finish line. Especially being a single mother.

I keep looking for evidence that I am enough.

In a clean home. A productive day. A successful business. A perfect routine.

In another’s voice outside of my own.

But maybe being enough, isn’t something I was ever supposed to earn.

Maybe being enough is simply how much I care in the first place. Maybe waking up everyday and choosing to try my best is the enough. Maybe rest is productive. Or being human and making mistakes is normal and okay. Maybe imperfection is guaranteed and it doesn’t define my morality. Maybe it’s okay that I’m simply alive and breathing.

Am I doing enough?

Probably.

It honestly doesn’t feel as insane as I thought it would.

I thought I would spend my nights yearning for the man I used to share a bed with every single night for the last 6 years, but honestly I feel nothing. The hole that’s been left where I used to be full of love, loyalty, admiration, for him- is now filled with a different kind of love.

You hear it a lot in therapy, separation through parenting courses, social media posts, you name it; that you have to be in this person’s life whether you like it or not because they are the father/mother of your children. And they’ll give advice on acting amicably, how to handle co-parenting situations, how to detach romantically and step into a different relationship role. While I appreciate the advice, I think the second I realised the relationship was over, I immediately saw him as the father of my children rather than the love of my life. It felt like a quick click in my head, and a massive break in my heart. This man who used to be my favourite, most important person in my world- is now just a very favourite and important person in my children’s world. And that is the way it is for right now.

I keep getting asked by kind strangers online, “How did you leave?”

It honestly felt like I didn’t have a choice. Like this higher power was forcing me out of my old life.

The night our relationship ended. I almost went to sleep in my baby’s bed, like I usually would when our relationship would regularly implode- I’d usually sleep, wake up, things would be weird and horrible and I would turn inwards and think, “What’s in my control? What can I do? What should I do?” I’d pray about it, I’d get my tarot cards out and spiral like a mad-woman, I needed to purchase a magic 8 ball to make the decision for me. Begging please God take this out of my hands I don’t know what to do but I’m fucking miserable right now.
And then I’d get this wave of excitement, genius and motivation. I knew this man well, and I knew myself even better. If I just try to change xyz- then we will be happy forever. And it would work, we would be happy for a while. Until the next time.
This night was different though. As I started to fall asleep, a little voice inside my head was screaming at me, “you need to call your sister.”
So I called my eldest sister Jessica and told her exactly what happened, how it had happened, with no details left untold and no white lies. I knew that if I had opened this vulnerable crack just a little, I couldn’t go back into the relationship without some resistance.

Over the last 3 months, I continued to tell more and more people who I trusted what my relationship had been like, what I had felt during it and what was the truth of it. The more people I told, the less likely I was to go back into it.

So now it’s been 3 months apart, over 1 month of no contact and I will never go back into the relationship.

I mean there’s no possibility to.

We can’t.

Simply put, there is no going back.

I have cried a lot over the last 3 months, and a whole lot more over the last 9 years. I have already grieved my relationship too many times to count, already said our dramatic goodbyes so many times, this breaking up thing isn’t new for us. But what is new, is these decisions I have been making for myself.

Ever since the night I decided to call my sister, I have taken the same method and applied it to every week since. The method is, acting as someone completely different to the girl who was stuck in the same cycles for years. Make a decision that she would not make. Make a new choice that is so scary- and do it anyways. Rebuild an entirely new life from scratch. One he has never known. One he has never ever been apart of.

Leave behind the old life. Start a fresh one brand new from scratch because you want it. Not because the boy you love wants it. But because Christine wants it.

Buy the thing you wouldn’t have done before because it’s ridiculous. Get new underwear he hasn’t pulled off your body. Dye your hair blonde. Leave all the furniture. Get new bed sheets. Leave behind your home. Create a new one. Double and add to your kids life instead of splitting it in half. Watch trash tv. Go for daily walks. Put the kids into a good school. Get a hobby. Get a lawyer. Make new friends. Reconnect with your parents. Start a business with your sisters. Create a new routine.

Do everything the old you wouldn’t or couldn’t. And change your entire fucking life.