04/11/2026
A year ago yesterday
(barely, as it's only just after midnight here)
I sat in this, our home, and said:
we are done.
and there is never going to be any further discussion about that.
And then I pleaded—
please, please, please make plans to leave.
And if you won’t leave forever,
please leave long enough
for me to figure out how to save the kids and I—
from losing our home,
from uprooting them overnight,
from trying to hold everything together
without ending up in the hospital at the same time.
—
That was just the beginning
of three weeks of living behind a locked door.
Three weeks of managing my safety inside my own home,
of staying contained to one space
during the times we weren’t with the kids.
Three weeks of holding firm boundaries—
with zero tolerance for raised voices, aggression, or language—
while also being fully prepared, at any moment,
to protect myself and my kids if needed.
Let me tell you—
I thought my world had already fallen before that.
—
Everything in our lives was on the line.
And the life I thought I was in
(which needed a lot of work anyways, let’s be honest)
had now been multiple times revealed and confirmed to me not true,
within a matter of a few months.
Not only were our financial lives not heading in the direction I had been told they were,
I realized why everything I had been doing to create a different direction
had been slipping through my hands.
And that confusion was finally resolved.
But what came with that
was the disillusionment.
Letting go of 15 years of a life—
false life, false memories,
things I thought were happening
that were never happening at all.
From the smallest moments
to entire life plans,
to lived memories and moments that never were,
that never actually were.
Not because we simply got it wrong
or grew apart over time—
but because the reality I was living in
was not stable or consistent
in the way I was being told,
and told to believe, it was.
—
Tonight, I’m in my home.
It’s quiet.
I can eat, rest, exist
without being made fun of,
managed, pulled at, or targeted.
Without being painfully ignored,
neglected, or quietly punished in ways
that are almost impossible to explain.
Without being called stupid
while somehow also being lifted up onto a ridiculous pedestal—
a pedestal which I hated too.
—
I’ve had a full year of holidays now
where I didn’t cry even once,
after 15 years of crying every single one.
—
And tonight, more than anything,
I can feel how much strength has come back into my body.
Not loud.
Not forced.
But real.
And I’m so grateful to be able to be on a continued path
of physiological health and well-being—
to be taking care of my body in a way
that is actually supporting me now.
I am grateful for improved sleep (so so grateful) more often.
There is a kind of life ahead of me now
that I couldn’t access before—
not because I couldn’t see it,
and not because I wasn’t already building towards it.
And I’m grateful to be here—
with it,
and with myself,
in a way I haven’t been in a very long time.
—
I am grateful for the basic functions of my life every day.
I am literally grateful to just be alive this year.
—
And from here,
I move forward with my kids,
with my work,
with the life I am building now—
in truth,
in clarity,
and in something that is finally real,
including my truth.
—
🪷 And to each of you counting the minutes and the days—
either to safety, or within it—
🪷 don’t give up.
🪷 And don’t believe the confusion.
Because that confusion was never yours to begin with.