My Story (so far)
About a year ago, I started a journey. It wasn't a journey I had ever expected to take. It was the perilous path to single motherhood.
We all have our dreams and ideals of what our life is going to be. Like everyone else, I was trying to follow the road that would lead to that picture perfect life. Every step I took at that time was carefully chosen; but I was so busy watching my feet that I lost myself in the woods and found myself having to rely not on the world as I thought I knew it, but on my own intuition.
This journey is a journey about self-reliance. It's a journey about discovering what I was made of. It's a journey filled with doubt, fear, uncertainty, and powerlessness. But in the end, I hope to find a new sense of happiness and fulfillment.
This is the journey of a single mother.
I've started this blog as a kind of therapy. As a child, I would spend hours writing when I couldn't sleep, and sleeplessness has become a regular part of my new life. If it worked for the 11 year old me, I guess it can't hurt the 29 year old me. And in the interim, if it helps other women or men who are in similar situations (because God knows, no situation is ever exactly the same), then that's great, too.
I'll end this post with a quote that is very bittersweet to me. Maybe someday I'll get into why.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
“Wash the plate not because it is dirty nor because you are told to wash it, but because you love the person who will use it next.” - Saint Teresa of Calcutta Every night after dinner, Niles does the dishes. Mostly, he stacks them in the dishwasher and runs it, but often he also hand washes the pots and pans, setting them in the drying rack and putting them away later when they've air-dried enough. He always clears the table and wipes it down, making sure everything is the way it was (sometimes cleaner than it was) before we sat down to eat. At the beginning of our relationship, when he’d do this I felt somewhat at a loss. Doing the dishes had always been my responsibility, along with nearly every other household chore, and I wondered what to do with myself while this other person took care of it. It was one of many mundane tasks that had always been on my already-full plate and freeing that space felt almost like cheating. A little breathing room felt suffocating in the con...
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