No one told me what to expect after divorce. I just did; I trusted my instincts.
When I got divorced, no one told me I would feel like divorced with my children. There was a bitter foresight that we would have to share parenting time; but nobody told me what it really was like. Nobody told me that I would develop premature empty nest syndrome every week with apathetic transitions.
I became a part-time parent. I don't want to be a part-time parent. I want to get out of bed every morning and hear me run into my side, to be exposed to 20 pointless questions before breakfast. When I secretly pray for a few days of silence, I want to be angry and tell them to be quiet.
He never stopped behind during the sporting events and told me that I would feel sorry for the cheerful parents and the cheerful parents. I can't be the mother I want when they're with me. I'm in second place with my own discretion; Because I don't want their stepmother to feel guilty because they hugged me before me. I don't want them to have to make a choice.
Nobody has prepared me for the feelings that will come alive when I took my children from school. His arms were opened wide, his hair weaves into me towards the right. The fingers of another woman in the morning. Her bald hair above my bald head.
Although divorce is my choice, I didn't know enough about the future. Enlightenment does not happen with the seal of the notary. On the contrary, when paperwork finally ends, it slowly dissolves through a process that spans years. And every landmark, every birthday, every holiday, I remember my decision in a disturbing way.
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