It’s a Friday evening, and I find myself on my deck, cozy by the fire amidst a sea of chocolate wrappers and graham cracker crumbs, while my dogs lick the remnants of burnt marshmallows from the chairs. I had a wonderful evening grilling chicken and indulging in s’mores with my kids, who are now off to spend the weekend with their dad.
As they packed their bags with clothes and beloved toys for their two-night stay, I surveyed the mess around me. Rather than feeling overwhelmed, I simply shrugged it off. The chaos was a reminder of the joyful moments spent together, and I felt a sense of peace. I never thought I would reach this level of acceptance.
The joyful noise of my children running around has faded away, replaced by silence, the occasional echo of “Mom?” and my own thoughts. This is the moment that once terrified me when my husband and I first discussed separating months ago. We clung to our relationship longer than we should have, fearing the disruption it would bring to our family and the time spent with our children.
The thought of being away from my kids for days at a time was daunting. I feared being alone with myself, convinced that the quiet would be unbearable. I imagined awkward encounters with my ex at a fast-food restaurant, stiff smiles exchanged as I watched my kids drive away, feeling lost and unsure of how to fill the next 48 hours.
When the actual day came, it wasn’t as I had envisioned. Instead of an awkward meeting, he came over for dinner before taking the kids to his place. Despite our separation, we still share a desire to maintain a sense of family, and I feel fortunate that our arrangements work well for us.
During my first weekend alone, I filled my schedule with activities to soften the blow; I worked, baked, caught up with friends over meals, treated myself to a facial, and binge-watched shows until exhaustion took over. I even allowed my dog to sleep with me, enjoying the comfort he provided.
The next morning, after sleeping in for the first time in years, I took the longest shower imaginable, free from interruptions, with hot water flowing abundantly. Once the plans ran out, I allowed myself to sit in stillness and shed a few tears. It was a liberating experience.
In that moment, it clicked—I was going to be okay. We would all be okay.
I missed my kids—their morning snuggles, their laughter echoing through our home, the shared breakfasts, and the backyard playtime. Yet, I realized amidst my solitude, I had also missed finding myself.
After several weekends of solitude, I’ve come to accept that it’s not selfish to reconnect with the person I used to be. I feel vibrant and liberated, knowing I am in the right place at this moment in my life. With my nearly 20-year relationship coming to an end, discovering who I am again is crucial for my healing. I need to embrace this time alone, as it’s essential for my well-being.
Though questions about whether we made the right choice still surface, I refuse to dwell on self-pity while my kids enjoy quality time with their wonderful father. They need him, and I need to be okay for their sake.
And I am okay—whether it’s savoring takeout noodles, finishing an entire book in a weekend, or enjoying outings with my best friends, I find joy in these moments. This new reality may have caught me off guard, but I’m ready to tackle it head-on.
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In summary, my journey as a newly single mom has taken unexpected turns, leading me to heal and rediscover myself during my weekends alone. Instead of drowning in loneliness, I have found the strength to embrace this new chapter, proving that solitude can indeed be a path to self-discovery and peace.
Keyphrase: healing as a newly single mom
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