Returning. Changed.

It feels like this is the place that I need to return to. It feels strange to come back here to write this part of the story, but it seems like this is the place for it. Because this is now a part of Millie’s story, as much as all of the other posts that are gathered here. And while I know that this space no longer has readers, it still seems as if I need a place to put this part of our journey and this is the only place that feels right.

Our family has changed. Yet again. This time it has broken, split into pieces, instead of gathering to become whole. Carla has decided to end our marriage. She has moved out. There is someone new to take my place. And while she remains committed to being there for Millie, there is a lot of adjusting. For all of us.

And so now, here I sit. For now, Millie and I are still in our home. I am hoping that we will be able to stay, but moving from being a two income family in this house into just a one income family here in this house brings with it its own set of challenges. Carla is renting a house a few blocks away and we are still figuring out how to split our time with Millie.

As for me, I have spent weeks trying to find my center. Trying to find a way to breathe again. Trying to find a new way to exist. I spent the first few weeks just trying to convince myself that this was all real. That this was really happening. I would walk out of school at the end of a day of teaching and go to text Carla, to let her know I was heading home, and then I would remember that she was not there anymore, that home was not a place where anyone was waiting for me. I had to remind myself that I was going home to an empty house. That no one was waiting for me. And it would bring me to fresh tears.  All over again.

To be honest, in those first days, everything brought me to tears. When I was teaching or when I was with Millie, something switched and I could carry on. But almost the minute my students left the room, or the minute I put Millie to bed, the tears would come back. I learned to hide them when I could. I learned to lean into them when I had to.

And in all the initial sadness, nothing was as painful as the moment when we told Millie that Carla was moving out. By the time we told Millie, it had been a few weeks since things had shifted. She could feel the shift. In a matter of weeks, we went from being a family of three that did everything together, that spent all of our time as a unit, to being two separate families. One with Millie and me and the other with Millie and Carla. She knew things were different, though she had not yet said anything about it.

And then one Friday, we told her. And it was awful. It’s like I could watch her whole world being ripped apart. As we sat her on the couch and started to talk about how families change, she covered her ears and ran away from us and started to cry and scream in a way that ripped my heart apart all over again. I do not think it is dramatic to say that it was the single most painful moment of my entire life thus far. Watching your kid’s heart break and knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it, is just one of the worst feelings on top of all the other bad feelings that were already swirling around within me.

In the weeks since then, there have been three of them so far, we have been working to figure out this new way of being. And while I am almost able to make it through a day without a crying (almost), there is so much to be dealt with, so much to be sorted through, so much yet to be figured out.

And there is more to be said. Much more. And I am sure I will be back to say it. But this is enough for now. I am going to leave this here for now. I will be back. I am still here.