This morning in our home, we kicked off a lively dance party that was much needed. With the upbeat tunes of Lizzo and Taylor Swift echoing in the kitchen, my partner, Jake, pulled out his phone to capture the moment. My 1-year-old and 4-year-old were shaking their little bodies along with me, laughter filling the air as we belted out our favorite lyrics. Jake wore a wide smile throughout, a reminder of the joy we still share, even as we brace for the storm ahead.
Tomorrow, Jake will board a flight across the country for a job that will keep him away for six long months. I’ll be on the East Coast, managing our children alone—something I’m familiar with. Jake’s work often demands long hours and can bring a wave of stress, and this new opportunity is no exception, but there’s one significant difference: my best friend and the father of my kids will be away for half a year.
I spent nearly ten years in California, where I met Jake through an online dating platform after a challenging divorce. In true whirlwind fashion, I quickly became a stepmom to his daughter, and soon after, I was pregnant with our first child. In just three years, I had our daughter, Lily, we got married in his family’s backyard, and then I was expecting our son, Max. We’ve been on this unpredictable rollercoaster ride together ever since, but I never anticipated that some of those dips would lead me to such dark places.
Managing the demands of being a new mother and stepmother proved to be incredibly challenging. I also found myself grappling with job hunting, the high cost of living in Los Angeles, and mental health struggles that were foreign to me. Shortly after Lily’s third birthday, I was diagnosed with complex PTSD stemming from childhood trauma, which clarified the muscle spasms, panic attacks, and self-harm I was experiencing. It felt like the ground had vanished beneath me, leaving me wondering how to move forward with such a daunting diagnosis. The burden felt too heavy, so much so that I even contemplated ending my life last year.
I’m overwhelmingly grateful that I didn’t. We relocated to the East Coast to be closer to Jake’s family, save some money, and allow me to pursue the mental health care I desperately needed. Jake sacrificed a promising directing career to support us, an act of love that I will never take for granted. We planned to stay in New Hampshire for a year, seeking freelance work that would allow us to be present with our children. Things were going reasonably well until Jake wrapped up a contract job and struggled to find work for two months. Suddenly, I was using an EBT card at the grocery store, visiting food pantries, and reaching out to family for financial help.
Then came an unexpected twist. Jake received several job offers from West Coast animation studios, which we had never anticipated. After many tearful late-night discussions, we realized we needed the financial relief these jobs could provide. Despite the heartache of being apart, we accepted that these opportunities might be our lifeline. Within a week, Jake secured a directing role, signed a six-month contract, and began searching for a place to stay in California.
As you can guess, emotions are running high in our household. Our little boy has no clue that his beloved dad is about to leave, while our daughter is processing her feelings in her toddler way. I’m doing my best to stay strong for the family, all while internally grappling with the implications of this separation on my mental health recovery.
Jake has been my rock. He has endured so much in his life and has emerged as a loving, supportive partner. His growth has been incredible, and he has consistently provided stability during this tumultuous time in my mental health journey. I honestly don’t know how I will cope without him. I’m striving to remain positive and remind myself of how far I’ve come from the dark days of wanting to disappear. But I also recognize the deep grief that comes with temporarily losing his presence.
Our long-term goal is to reunite in California as a family. Achieving this will require patience, hard work, and navigating the challenges of solo parenting. Thankfully, I have an amazing therapist and am on effective antidepressants that support me through this journey. However, in the week leading up to Jake’s departure, I’ve noticed the return of PTSD-related muscle spasms, leaving me anxious about handling everything alone.
During challenging times like these, parents need compassion, safe spaces to express their feelings, and ongoing support. It’s crucial to understand that it’s okay not to be okay. Yet, that understanding can be difficult to attain when those around me may not fully grasp what I’m experiencing. A significant part of my complex PTSD stems from a lack of encouragement, unconditional love, and stability throughout my childhood.
Outside of therapy and medication, Jake has been my greatest source of healing. While I know it’s up to me to nurture myself during his absence, the thought of him leaving weighs heavily on my heart. I will miss the man who laughs at my silly mom jokes, opens his arms when I feel overwhelmed, and reassures me of my beauty, regardless of how I feel on any given day. I will miss the warmth of his hands in mine during our quiet Netflix evenings, the comfort of his presence after a long day, and watching our kids climb on his back during playtime.
I will allow myself the space to grieve the absence of my husband.
My greatest hope is that by this time next year, I’ll no longer be mourning what is soon to be lost. I envision waking up in our future California home, our kids playfully jumping on us as we shuffle to the kitchen for coffee. I imagine sitting on our porch, Jake’s arm around me as the Los Angeles sun sets, creating new memories together. I’ll cherish these thoughts on the days when I feel overwhelmed, holding them close when video calls feel inadequate compared to the real deal. And when I reach for Jake at night, only to find his side of the bed empty, I will remind myself of the love we share.
For more insights on navigating similar journeys, check out this other blog post at Home Insemination Kit. If you’re interested in home insemination resources, consider visiting Make a Mom for expert advice. Additionally, the American Pregnancy Association offers valuable information regarding donor insemination.
Summary
This article reflects on the emotional challenges of a partner’s long-term job away from home, highlighting the author’s past struggles with mental health and complex PTSD. The impending separation raises concerns about coping alone, maintaining stability for the kids, and the journey toward reuniting as a family in California. The importance of compassion, support, and self-care during tough times is emphasized, alongside a glimpse of hope for the future.
Keyphrase: mental health challenges during separation
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