Monday

Making the Hardest Decision — But Also the Right One

Today, I’m writing with a heart that’s heavy but also lighter than it’s been in a long time. I’ve made the decision to split from my husband. Yeah, I know. Big, heavy, nerve-wracking stuff. It’s the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make, but honestly? It’s also the best one for me and my children right now.

For months, I’ve felt like I’ve been walking around in a fog—trying to be everything for everyone, holding back tears, pretending I was coping when inside I was just… breaking. I’ve come to realise I need peace. I need love. I need to feel cared for and nurtured — not just for myself, but for my kids too. They’re at that age where they see everything, feel everything, and need me present—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Having a controlling, coercive partner was like living with a dark cloud constantly looming. It was affecting all of us. My kids would retreat into their rooms, close the door, and I’d do the same — silent, numb, waiting for the storm to pass.

But since he’s been gone, everything’s changed. And I mean everything.
We’re in the garden building fire pits from old barbecues (because who doesn’t want a DIY fire pit, right?) — laughing, joking, chatting. I didn’t realise how much I needed this—how much this simple joy would turn my world upside down in the best way. The house feels lighter, calmer. You can almost hear the silence—and honestly, I don’t want it to end.

And my 14-year-old? He’s like a totally different kid. The dark cloud that was hanging over his head has lifted, swapped for banter and cheeky jabs. Today, he asked, “Mom, can I break some wood to do a fire? Roast marshmallows? Can we ask the aunties over? I want a fire and food!” His grin, his silly questions—my heart feels like it’s melting from the inside out.

He doesn’t know how much I needed him to say those things, just like I didn’t realise I needed to hear them myself. Deep down, I’ve got rage simmering beneath my skin—I’m angry at the unfairness, the pain, the stress. But my children, my tiny heroes, are helping me inch my way back to the person I used to be. They’re healing me with their laughter, their silliness, and their pure, unfiltered love.

I never wanted to fall into the category of “single mum.” Honestly, just the phrase sounds so trashy and judging—like I’m some sort of lesser person. But you know what? The future I’m making? I’ll do it my way. Because I will  make it work.  
And if that means doing it alone, then so be it. I’ve got this.

I’ve got the strength.
I’ve got my kids.
And I’ve got hope.

And as my mate says, “Life’s tough, but so are you—just like these bloody Weetabix I’m surviving on tonight.”

Here’s to the new beginning—full of love, laughter, and maybe a few more marshmallows.